The Soul Waits
The soul dreams . . .
of a day when it can be free;
a day when it is no longer held captive
in a murky world of dark thoughts and dark deeds.
The soul yearns . . .
for a time when it can forever soar;
a time when it can break free of earthly bonds,
chains of fear, tethers of stark indecision.
The soul knows . . .
that within this span of mortal existence,
the morsels on which it chooses to feed,
ultimately, decide its immortality.
The soul waits . . .
locked in its cell of consciousness,
nourished by offered morsels of good and evil,
clothed only in the thin fabric of conscience.
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