the colour of our lives

poetry • celebration • faith • nature • humanity • imperfections • glory

but, the soul

There’s a situation;
Neverman always has
a situation, but he has
no time, no appetite
for Dr Freud
and his learned progeny.

The sages dig deep, no
doubt, but the eclectic
smorgasbord of Jung
does not satisfy, nor
the dry bread of cognition.

Adler’s insight rings true,
and we all fear to drink
the cup of death, but
these things make too
much sense to be of help.

speaker-for-the-deadBut, the soul. Gestalt,
impotent, slinks to the back,
with his weary brothers.
A Presence, huge, electric,
is Leviathan on the table,
carving Himself for the feast.

Still, Neverman aches for
the gifts of Love, while
hiding, vainly, from the Lover.
Heart, torn and planted; a
scion of the tree of Life
springs from the bloody ground.

αΩ


Image from comics.ign.com. Some of the last stanza inspired by “Speaker for the Dead” by Orson Scott Card.

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8 thoughts on “but, the soul

  1. Amazing! These themes I’ve run into today.
    My nurturing side has been replenished.

    Very good! 🙂 Peace, UT

  2. I feel so lame saying, “This is really really good” yet again, but there it is. What are you doing posing as a soil science guy when you are obviously a poet?
    May God make this work fruitful, and bless your household with peace.

  3. Modern psychology is to the soul what popular music is to poetry…

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