The soul has a limber body;
its full expression is extension.

Beckoning it into constrained space,
we invite angst.

It wants only to philander,
find warmth in any bed,
no matter how unworthy.

Not that it’s easy to be embodied
against one’s will.
The earth shouts to it
her message in myriad voices.
The devil tempts relentlessly,
with a flickering film reel
of sentiments.

But God asks his questions
only once,

We follow the fading echoes