The Writers Voice
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Hidden Treasure of the Soul
by
Solomon Machardson
As I walked
along a village path,
The storm cloud mumbled in the sky,
The wind whistled over the elephant grass
And the tree branches creaked and the leaves
rustled;
Suddenly, a shrill voice within me
Sang some meaningless ballad
That traversed the darkness of my thoughts
And recalled a childhood experience!
For a moment I forgot
The pale beam of the crescent moon;
The tempest that roams the sky;
And the brutal waves of the oceans.
Instinctively I stopped and stood still
And saw deep within myself,
The hidden treasures of my soul
That filled me with joy alien to this world.
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