I grasp the pulse
Of every lost soul.
Some captivate,
While others resist control.
All the emotions,
Trapped in jars,
Shining where they’re meant to be,
Just like the stars.
One soul squeals in excitement
And giggles in joy,
Smiling and laughing, embracing every toy.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Gazing up into the hazel sky,
Watching the birds
As they flap their wings,
Chirping and twittering in the air.
Another soul cries in despair,
Shrieking in agony,
Yet nobody seems to care.
Its chest splits open,
As it gasps for air,
Gulping down ounces of it,
For it seems so rare
To even have a glimpse of it,
Let alone a share.
I carefully place each soul,
Seal the jar.
Souls so precious
Can’t be left to rust.
They must be displayed,
And let them speak their story,
As people stop and stare.
Perhaps they should listen closely
To every word,
Every letter,
From a being that has experienced
Every form of matter.