Is there one spirit inside me—
I mean, my SOUL?
It’s my cake that I can eat
I mean, my SOUL?
It’s my cake that I can eat
and have inside me
too. My sole
outlet to the sea, tis
too. My sole
outlet to the sea, tis
said—that sea
out of which I rolled
and to which I can return when I finally eat
out of which I rolled
and to which I can return when I finally eat
my poison-hemlock treat.
Socrates thought his sole
reward for a life well spent
Socrates thought his sole
reward for a life well spent
might be awaiting him, or else oblivion, which he’d
have preferred if dying was all.
Carrying my soul inside me—
my soul, my deepest self
that bides me;have preferred if dying was all.
Carrying my soul inside me—
because time’s not real and the whole
sea’s welled up inside me
in a funny soft-bread lozenge that I can eat.
