The Soul

subsumed in the syllables
of the conscience it speaks
at dawn,

'this should have been this
the ought and must'

the body feels its softness
afraid of its purity the body declares

' i am human and i have needs
you must understand'

poles apart, one sleeps the other wakes up
upon a disagreement the mind suffers

the body wanders throughout the night
uttering a justification

the soul listens attentively
the eyes of the heart now speaks

'there must be a compromise somewhere
a middle, the mean, what must, what is'

time plays the game
the body is the boat, the soul its watcher

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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