My Soul Flies (And Fly It Will)

Trapped inside this ominous receptacle,

Eighteen years, eight months, six days, ten hours, fifty minutes and forty seven seconds beyond my best before date,

I stand hollow and cavernous-as the wind cascades itself amidsts my masts, creating sweet tunes and great form;

My eyes have been spectators to such mesmerising beauty, humbling devastation and horror;

My ears have beared witness to great orchestrated melodies, profound speeches and bone wrenching pleas for intervention;

My skin has felt the sweet caress of a caring hand, the firm- corrective thump of life, the allure of a sexual pulse and the sterility and inamimacy of iron.

My heart has endured the thrills of young love, hatred, death and disappointment.

And, in the depression and demarcation which belongs to my soul: there lays nothing!

For although I’ve endured so long beyond my best before date, my soul had other plans

And as such, it manifested wings and learnt to fly.

And fly it did, o’er the wonders of this terrestrial abode, to greater times and to become reincarnated

Reincarnated to be, all that it’s tangible body can’t be and even more.

For unlike my eyes, ears, flesh and even the concept of a triune heart, though it has suffered, it has the strength to endure, the tenacity to say yes in a world which says no;

It possesses the tour de force of generations and long after my eyes can no longer see

Long after my ears cannot hear

Long after my skin cannot feel

Long after my heart can no longer asimilate to feel

Long after this receptacle returns to whence it came,

That soul, which manifested wings will fly,

And fly it will!