When the last snowflakes
Gently descend in early spring
I think about the north country
When the dying drafts of cold air
Solemnly kiss me farewell
I think about you

Flowers simmer
In summer, a relief
April showers

Too lost
To find
Words, far behind

Bridges everywhere
No destination
Destined

Spaces built
Indoors empty
Felt

Don’t look deep
The end‘s nowhere
To find

I met the Soul,
And she was empty.
She was exhausted, unattached.
She wandered charily,
Taking the back streets,
Not to be noticed.
She was unsaved.

Was she abused?
Was she just given up?
She walked so poor, not oneself.
"Why are you suffering?" -
I asked her heedfully.
And lo I realized:
It's my Soul herself.