By William Corden
It’s so much speculation,
the theory of creation
some say it was mechanical
others think it’s spiritual
I’m really not quite sure which side
I fall along that great divide
From nothing, sprung the force of life
and we still don’t know how
we can’t identify the spark
that burned from then ’til now
Our present system of belief
has tempered our emotions
and says that we as man arose
from creatures of the oceans.
That spark we like to call a soul
stays in us as it pleases
When it decides to move along
we return to Jesus.
Or maybe not, we just don’t know
and no one can confirm
that once the final curtain drops
do we go round again?
What happens to our soul?
that floating chaff of wheat
that gives us thought and action
and drives our hearts to beat?
what happens when it separates,
is it free to roam?
does it stay whole, or dissipate
into the cosmic foam
does it ride on astral winds
searching for a host
ethereal and weightless
a milky, eerie ghost
can it occupy a new born child
perhaps a butterfly
or does it just make up a star
in the night time sky.
I like to think it’s always there
just a breath away
that friends who’ve died
are on that chair
that seems to rock and sway
It comforts me to touch a cup
where once your lips had taken sup
It settles down my troubled mind
to know you’re there….
at least in kind
I kiss a faded photograph,
your lovely, smiling face
and know you haven’t left me
….here without a trace.
