The Life of a Lost Soul

by Joanna Ryan-Purcell
(Bray, Co. Wicklow, Ireland.)

To honour a gift that one can show
I create a mansion that depicts the lives of lost souls who have finally found their destination.
I show them my house and bring them through corridors with carpets full of rain.
I open the curtains and the ray of protruding light stings their eyes.
This is the moment when one raindrop falls from their eyes.
The bones of those who have been defeated are rearranged into a pattern that only death can understand.
My explanation does not matter,
What matters are the juices that flow from a river of passion,
Because passion never dies,
The proof is in the rain that drowns the carpets,
The honour is in the bones that still survive,
And the raising light only comes when the curtains are opened.
This is destiny.
Destiny is the depiction of our hearts.
I have said enough.

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