The Sovereign Soul

I stand before the mirror, and I do not turn away,
I see the dust of yesterday, the shadows in the grey.
I put the dirt upon myself; I walked the path I chose,

And I won’t paint a portrait now where only virtue grows.

I used this skin to survive the night, to earn the bread I needed,

And though the wounds have closed at last, the scars remain unheeded.

They tell us that a page, once torn, can never be as it was born,

That ink, once spilled upon the white, will haunt the margins through the night.

But look at the earth, the deep, dark ground, where the rarest things are found;

The diamond is forged in a crushing place, and the gold is scrubbed of its dusty face.

Dirt is where the lilies claim the strength to rise, to break the seal,

To turn the "used" into something new, and something fiercely real.

I do not cast a stone at them, or ask the heavens "Why?"

For even I, in my own heart, when looking for a light,

Would reach for what is clear and new, and beautiful and bright.

To want the bell that hasn't cracked, the song that’s yet to sing.

A man is not a "bad man" for the preference he holds,

For wanting pages white and clean, and stories yet untold.

I respect the line he draws in sand, the standard in his mind,

I do not blame the hands that stay, or hearts that choose to part;

I know the weight of "perfect" and the physics of the heart.

But in this vault of Paper and Pixels, where the truth is finally set,

I’ve learned that some will seek the sun, while others seek the wet;

The deep, dark soil where life was hard, but roots are iron-strong,

Where a woman learned to stand alone when everything was wrong.

If I end this journey on my own, I’ll face the consequence,

Yet, if a man should come along who looks beneath the stain,

Who sees the wisdom in the "used" and beauty in the pain,

It won't be because I’m "perfect," but because his eyes can see

That the "better" one he's looking for... is the one I’ve grown to be.