Frost in Flames by Anna King //
My True Self by David E. Ahlman //
Shaded under layers of skin,
Beneath cells and bone,
Is the person that powers my soul,
My true self below.
Often I converse with him
In the confines of my mind
And take the talents he holds inside
And make them come alive.
Occasionally I forget his wisdom,
But when we make time to talk
He reminds me of those thing I must do
So his intelligence might be unlocked.
He's my best held in my body;
Chained, and cuffed, and seized –
Struggling to break the bands of nature
To see how it feels to be free.
He pleads with me in every instance
To cease choosing what's wrong;
Since in every instant I elect the right
He shines in me more strong.
He teaches me to tough out the trials,
To bridle my tongue from contention;
To reconstruct the house of my heart
Into a holy mansion.
He instructs me away from farce and failure,
From serving the devil’s demons;
From avoiding standing across from him
At the table of incorrect decision.
He is jailed, imprisoned, planted, and covered
Waiting to burst through the ground;
To sprout, and reach; grow, and sprout
Out of my mortal mound.
He's buried in the soil of my soul;
He's who I am meant to be.
He's my goal, my purpose, my life’s mission:
He's the spirit planted in me.
