It’s in the blue gel stage of soul development
we think the trouble starts. Still malleably soft enough
to prompt the hope in its assessors they can coax it
not to double back into the pleasant entropy from which
it came but rather yearn to learn the arts of aiming
at a goal in a direction which will pass inspection
in the next stage, when it’s green and thick and palpable,
the Soul is on the brink of a decision which will link it
to what it must do: the thrust, the whole of Soul’s sole
trust: how will it care for human life? Will it act
as loving father, mother, husband, lover, wife?
Or profit more by causing strife? One’s as much
an avenue to real illumination as the other. Did your Soul
take the road to Love or War? Or did it take another?