I've never seen a soul,
this I was only told.
Still I feel another part,
besides my heart.
I don't feel sorry for my soul,
it's my body of pain I behold.
My soul is comfortably tucked away,
protected by my body of clay.
The body is weighted down,
but a soul can fly around.

Most sacrifice their shell,
to keep their soul out of hell.
I feel for my outer,
because I'm a soul doubter.
Right now and right here,
Is the pain I fear.
I have no concerns,
if my soul later burns.

The hereafter,
is the future later.
It is not my main dictator.
Since my body will not survive,
I could care less if my soul will thrive.
It's this mass of muscle,
that gives me the most hassle.
In my vision of sight,
my body and I fight.
The soul inside,
is on a free
ride.

Choice!

G