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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #2183799
On the eternal nature of the soul
No matter how wild your moods,
how fickle your wheeling will,
how layered your alluvial soul—

no matter how often your headlong steps
intend to go one direction
and end all together elsewhere—

you are my order out of disorder,
my eternal progression,
my pinnacle with ensign unfurled
worlds without end.

But I didn’t create you,
any more than I created myself.

You came as you are—
past, present, future nested together,
intelligence struggling toward self-excavation,
ever a free agent to act and (God willing)
never to be acted upon.
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