A Letter to Her

Soul,

If I told you that I loved you, would you believe me?

I think a poet once said, "A man always loves his soul; he must." And I, perhaps for lack of an imagination, can't imagine a man who doesn't love his soul. 

But I will that I would only ever say what I know is true—better that my actions take the place of my voice. My woven words are only worth their weight in gold. 

And where are you now, Soul?

Dancing among Plato's forms? Which virtue would you test the limits of next?

I don't suppose you will settle for this century's dream. You would rather agonize yourself in a game, pitting the future with the past. But I've never been clever at games; I was a clutz on the field. Rather, let's walk uphill, together. 

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