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?
.
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