Whatever souls are made of
Cannot be gauged or weighed
They are not a Will O the Wisp
Neither light nor shade
They're not made of ether
Nor in the ground are laid

They can't be poured or measured
They're neither young nor old
They don't have a temperature
Neither hot nor cold
They don't have a price tag
Neither bought nor sold

Whatever souls are made of
They're not chiffon nor lace
They're not helmet or khaki green
They have no mortal face
And when they leave the body
They're gone without a trace

Is the soul emotion?
Mind, or so it seems?
Is it something like a vapor?
Something like a steam?
Is there a place called heaven...
Or is it all a dream?

So many opinions
So many thoughts to weave
Here is my opinion
Here's what I believe...

If they have a presence
They're a hand within a glove
They can touch and hear and feel
Need nobody to dub
They can fly on wings of ravens
Or are as gentle as a dove
They are made to search for God

They're made just search for love.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/2/2016