A Pair of Souls
If a soul has forgotten how to speak
Or perhaps how to listen, too,
What is it that helps it think
The way it used so well to do?
It isn’t that its ceased to be
In the body we’re so used to seeing
It’s just that it’s lost its touch
Its lost that nice, belonging feeling.
Is your soul simply your own,
And therefore better in this state?
Or were we made to interfere
In each other’s soul estates?
If my soul were to make a sound
Is yours meant to hear?
Or was it an accident of fate
That one time we were near.
Now, I know, this all has changed,
So different from before,
But the question must be framed:
Were you made to see my soul
As it wanders by your own?
Were you made to hear
My soul’s small sounds, its dreams
And thoughts, and everything?
I think not. Because there you are
And here am I.
Two souls that have forgotten how
Between You and Me
How does one meet a soul, or tell anew,
Each time we greet, the depths that draw the line
Betwixt both you and me? Perhaps the true,
Perhaps the face behind all veils that lie
As protective niceties. Hello, say
Painted mouths, authenticity too bright
A blinding light upon the shadowed grey
Of our enlightened and postmodern sight.
Hello, I repeat, an embodied soul
Standing here before you. Both you and I
Stand across our chasm of souls untold.
This may be, but if it weren’t I would sigh
And then begin.
My soul is of course an average height
But most days dreams of standing tall
And reaching, capturing the out of sight.
My soul thinks it’s honest, but when the Fall
Makes an appearance, that silly thing lies
And says it hadn’t heard. It’s so surprised.
This soul I’ve got sometimes gets lost and tired,
Finding rest a thing far-fetched and fleeting.
The phantom feet I walk upon get mired
In the sludge of worry, till darkly dreaming
I turn and see a lifted cross to bear
Up all this heavy, burdened, soul sick care.
Hello, I say, again this one last time.
No veil, no painted mask, but here instead,
Chasm bridged, crossed, I greet your soul with mine.