I reluctantly came up for air

The rhythmic pulses . . .

Intertwined with mine

The soul’s welcome guest

All year round

    Reluctantly I came up  for air

Bathed in Satie

I restarted the day anew

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A sheltered soul is not soulful.

He’s hidden with worry and exhaustion.

Because the thought of pursuing is tiring,

Is damning,

Is embarrassing.

In a space that is too wide

There’s too much interpretation for the open.

So instead he closes himself softly,

Harshly.

He’s never been told.

He’s never been asked.

He’s never known that a sheltered soul is not soulful.

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