I seem to struggle handshaking my soul,
when I need to return to the place I know I can reconcile,
it seems, it figures out a way to remain distant,
or maybe I’m not so appealing to myself,
I scare or repulse myself,
perhaps my self has nothing in common with my soul,
and here I am, thinking I can retreat to a cocoon whenever I like,
when the reality is both my soul and my self are troubadours,
unsettled, unhappy, homeless and trying to find a way.
But the hope of acquaintance is alluring,
until then, I’ll search for the perfect line.