The soul’s a sort of prankster.
It walks with you ostensibly to ease your angst or
lend a lift to your penumbral views
but really it’s got other news
that hasn’t much to do with who you think is you.
It doesn’t give a Frankish sou
for your lugubrious emotions –
or even your exuberant devotions
should they happen to arrive.
The point for it is to become alive
beyond all reckoning.It needs you for that job. That’s why it’s beckoning.