L Milton Hankins Poet Blank verse

Where the Soul Resides

I have often wondered where the soul resides beyond
The wavering seas of this life’s unending circumstance,
Where it comes to rest when this infirmed body lies
In everlasting sleep shrouded satins and lace embraced,
To my surprise, most think the soul rests in holy arms
Spread wide to receive myriad spirits of all humankind.
But could it molder like the worthless shell so encasing
For evidence tends to dust we shall return, vanishing
From the hopes of immortality, no more seen to gather
To ourselves faith, love, hope—the graces souls prize,
Nor seen near or far, no evidence of it appearing here
In this realm where much about death is left to ponder.  

written June 22, 2021

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Daniel Turner June 23, 2021 at 5:48 AM I too have often wondered, Milt. I decided to just live the best I could and let the chips fall where they may. A very thought provoking poem. L Milton Hankins June 23, 2021 at 7:33 AM Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment, Daniel. That is pretty much what we have to do when it comes right down to it.