Monday, May 11, 2015

Another Sort of Soul

We’re told by some the soul
is perfect and unchanging –
a flame lit by a god. But surely

souls or gods like that would
never last for long in Universes
whose variety is infinite –

for whom no plausible satiety
can therefore be imagined.
I think my soul is of another sort.

I think it sports with other passing
evanescences like it, which
flit and swoop and sometimes

flap upon a lap or hip and stay
a while. What they talk
about might make us smile,

or not: fraternity’s eternity –
or existential conjugations
of beget, begat, begot.


No comments: