But I would question the essence of my soul

How much longer can I rein in my soul
From its agile decay
More is lost and less is gained
Whilst seeking proof of purpose

But I would question the essence of my soul

A question mark at the end of this soliloquy
Do you know a soul that can say
I love you and only you.
In truth, there is no other one
That I regard as my better half?
Often I feel restless at this claim
What claim is it? Rash, I say
Not knowing what… (can knowledge be too much,
Or avarice another name for sense?)
The ownership of another soul entails
Are we one
And no other can do?
And what one loves
Can only be
Pure, in itself
The one and only

(If we state it is so
enough and enough
perhaps we shall value more
our lives for its worth
as the gambler plays by his losing cards
desire and hope name chance his faith)

And what is purity?
Untainted… unaffected
A nature pure and genial
Or passionate – according to like
Will bestow affection

(can a man love an infant
as his better half?
for she’s pure – the purest when
she knows no words, and cannot yet be
conscious of her own adorability)

If one day I were to exchange my soul for another
I would hope that my mother would know
For everything I do and pursue
Will most likely be the same as before
That soul will adopt my memory
My genes, my temperament
My urges, my loves, my dislikes
(a soul does not contain neurons, I heard)

I would hope that my mother would know
So I can confirm that she loves me, and only me
As her child, not because I wear the shell that she with grace delivered me
But that I
Am unreplaceably
Unique!