So sings my soul
Pan’s shadow trailing
Clouds or rustling winter leaves
Inner flame
Ineffable black hole
Or hard and shining shell
Caramel at core
Or tortoise carapace
Behind the eyes
Between the heartbeats
At touch of fingertips
Or lips, beneath the tongue
There where the atom splits
Or cells collide and fuse
In crystal drop from tearful duct
Or muscle creased to smile
Where synapse clicks, connects and fires
A diamond chain, bright linking
Thoughts to words, ideas to deeds
How, when no trace
No scent or sound
No hint or clue is left
Can man, however grand he grows
Discern his soul immortal?
Pan’s shadow trailing
Clouds or rustling winter leaves
Inner flame
Ineffable black hole
Or hard and shining shell
Caramel at core
Or tortoise carapace
Behind the eyes
Between the heartbeats
At touch of fingertips
Or lips, beneath the tongue
There where the atom splits
Or cells collide and fuse
In crystal drop from tearful duct
Or muscle creased to smile
Where synapse clicks, connects and fires
A diamond chain, bright linking
Thoughts to words, ideas to deeds
How, when no trace
No scent or sound
No hint or clue is left
Can man, however grand he grows
Discern his soul immortal?
17th November 2009, Hounoux
From Jenny:
ReplyDeleteBeautifully put question, Sally! My answer is rather grim: by facing death, sometimes. If one's own, one agonises with Hamlet - sleep or dream? If someone else's, one faces all those semi-hallucinations, of recognising the person who died in someone walking down the street, and sometimes, one thinks one hears them speak (mistaken identity? so I was told!). But I still treasure a near-death experience that said, there is a blessed place where all is peace, and love abounds.
xxxJenny