Kit Kelen #669 - soul

669

soul

knowing what we can't know how

ourselves and who to be

a thing immortal as itself

low growl thereof

you have to picture the contraption

like a ghost at home

cloud flesh

or whimper, bang

it bowls me over

how I feel

all abstract of the mortal span

there isn't a body knows

is it a whole or parts apportioned?

most me among all forms succeeding

perhaps one can pass it on

it's how one knows the nation is

and takes some nous to do

will truth of it be mid-Atlantic?

is it more RP or drover's dog?

echoes in the glen

like the pipe smoke of uncles

so many years in the cask

and some would say a poem

it's not a thing to fashion

but it's always been that way

I think it floats

or maybe it's what washes up

or simply forth and back

weeds and white horses

could be a charge of ions

it goes where bravely

it may well be tidal

but mainly unbeknownst

how many colours to the soul?

then where shall I park it?

and what if I'm lost?

(note B 12 – by the purple pillar)

it has to rhyme with everything

so once more with meaning

where in the world is my soul now?

so many steps down to the stars