Souls do not need man;
NEVER needed man.
Souls do not ask for man;
NEVER asked for man.
But men beg for Souls,
just as soon as a new one
And then every day after—
“Hey there GOD, first time caller,
long time listener. I SWEAR IT!
I have a comment and a question.
FIRST, this is a great body. THANKS!
SO… I was wondering if maybe I can get
one of those Soul things to go along
with these farts, burps, and hiccups?
Please? Can I? Huh, Huh? Can I?
Whatcha say GOD? I’ve been GOOD!
I floss almost every day!
I brought two friends to Sunday School!”
HAH. God laughs. Or is that just
an involuntary exchange of gas
like everywhere else in the universe?
Man spends his life in privilege,
so certain of his mirror twin;
But all the while, questioning it
because man requires, desires,
pleads, and greeds for his Soul
But all his years, man receives
No certainty. No promise.
No ticket. No stub. No nothing.
Like this poem,
the Soul does not deliver
until the very end—
if it even arrives at all.