Soul

Soul is the product of mind
as the mind of body,
a developed conditioned response.

Its sign is the voice of sorrow,
encased, ensconced
in the narrow boundaries of self.

Not all men acquire a soul.
It must be learned.
Such learning takes time
and practice.

Antithetical to hubris and pride,
the soul feels anger
at practice of bias and hate.

Soul is not the same thing as love
though it may know love.
At heart,
what it teaches is trust:

accepting human failings as sin,
acknowledging
how little we win in a world
of greed

(a pattern that is not just American
though we have the lead)

and is disgusted with the macho creed
that worships muscle, machismo,
and war.

To love others, you must first love yourself,
a strange conundrum
that insists we place others first.

Soul is that strange kind of fish
that swims in the mind's clear water;
also the fish
that fed multitudes on a mountain.

The fish for each person fed
was a naked body,
the gift first received at birth
from our mother's womb.