What is a soul?

What is a soul? The child asked the wind
But the wind neither answered nor cared
What is a soul? Cried the soldier blue
And his tortured young voice rent the air
What is a soul? The young mother mused
As she tenderly rocked the cradle
Who has a soul? Was the old man’s cry
Someone tell me if anyone’s able
What is a soul? And who has such a thing?
Are the questions that torment the mind
The answers are tender as thistledown
As hard for to hold and to find
What is a soul? Is a cry from the heart
From the child, from the mother the son
It’s the question that burns in the depths of the breast
From the day that the thread is first spun
What is a soul? The spectre sings
As it blindly flies into the night
There’s never an answer from gods nor kings
And there isn’t a wrong. Or a right

© jane jago 2017

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