and with closed eyes
saw hanging in the air
a mis-shapen shape,
a deformed form,
a hideous, slimy thing.
It had my name.
It was my soul!
It whispered "look on me.
Look on me and know you're dead
and know that I am free."
I wondered what part of me
my dying eyes could see,
and then I understood:
the soul of Man is not the man
but something we create.
It is the image of our mind
- and oh
how ugly that can be!
No comments:
Post a Comment