A man’s soul

For a man’s soul is a forest,

an untamed jungle,

an irrevocable, uncontrollable torrent;

such an amorphous thing it is.

It cannot be fenced off,

subdivided, sliced up,

like a plot of land.

For a man’s soul has no

end and no beginning.

It lives, it endures, and it dies,

but no one knows when or how.

It speaks its own language.

It travels at its own speed.

It follows its own laws.

For a man’s soul is a beast,

wild, uncontrollable, free.

© Ernesto González, 2009