Sonnet: The Human Soul

Unseen, the soul of a man lies within,
Like the mighty hands that created him;
The Maker expecting it back sans sins,
Had filled the human skull with brain to brim.

On returning, the Soul’s state must be pure,
Or else, it shall not enter Heaven’s gate;
Its venial sins Purgatory will cure;
But mortal sins get it the Hellish fate.

So, lose your limb or eye if cause of sin;
To the lame or blind, God would give Heaven;
The sinful body, leads thee to hell’s door;
And wholesome yet, to the Inferno’s core.

Taint not by thyself with sinful ways/ misdeeds;
Grown not in the soul, saplings of sinful weeds.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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