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.