a soul unfinished

a pipe before bed
his soul born old
musing on the muse
and the smile she inspires
the literal joy she brings
on tie died wings
yet the smile a secret keeps
night drawn long he sits alone
the fire wanes
moon peeking through elder trees
he climbs into the wooden cave
sharing the sky by divided night
spirit damp she makes it bright
and yet together they may not be
and so his soul would not be right

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