The Anchor to my Soul

I have not found the anchor to my soulBut many tell me its not what I think it is.They tell me that its all around me But I never believed them until I saw the anchor myself. I see it in the distant stars that depict stories of the centuries just by their lightI see it in the soft summer breeze that whispers their secrets through the woodland and between the feathers of the willow tree.I see it in the midnight storm that thunders through the stillness of the night and batters the tender ground with sheets of relentless rain.Its in the roaring fire that crackles and releases its fireflies through the wooden log's dying breath. Its found in foamy ocean waves that gently thud the white sand, with its array of colors,Stretching for miles and sparkling in the midday sunIts the lazy August sun thats strong enough to warm and tint your skin and bright enoughTo light up the sky in an endless sunset.I see it in the first white snow of winter and the distant Christmas bells that ringAnd the joy they bringIts in a baby's glassy eyes that glance in their constant state of curiosity and innocence. I hear it in musical giggles or Hearty, throaty laughter that springs tears to squinted jovial eyes.Or the salty pools brought by a movie or book or song that reaches into the very depths Of our souls and gives our hearts an aching squeezeI hear it in the Moonlight Sonata that seamlessly glides the fingers in an eternal concoction of skin, memory, and ivory. I see it in the couple across the street in the cafe gazing into each other's eyes as if tomorrow didn't exist. They embrace and hold each other so tight that the world may fall apart if their grasp is lost.They hold and embrace with passion and intensity because even without realization, they are each other's world. And these countless experiences and moments and memories eventually find their way back to the strong,but ancient roots of their history.Of all of our histories.Of the beginning seedlings that firmly planted themselves within the dewy soilThe seedlings that were anchored along with our souls, with our hearts.  Our anchors are our adventuresAnd they wait, hidden beneath the surfaceBut patient for us to find them.Life is their secret.  So my dearest one,Go find your anchorBut in the meantime, Go wild with simply being alive.   

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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