(About a 2 minute read)
You now and then tell me the importance to you
Of your soul.
You have even wrapped your soul
From time to time in one or another religion.
And I’ve seen you pump it up with material things,
Or with intangibles you’ve found lying around.
A new car or house, your pride in your kids,
The value of family and friends, your politics.
All of those things you pour into your soul
Hoping you are pouring concrete for the foundations
Of you spiritual home.
But please tell me once again of that one time
Back in your twenties when you came home early from work.
Your wife and your best friend in your very own bed, I recall.
The shock killed you, you’ve told me time and time again.
And I believe you because I can see that it did.
Your soul turned a ghost that day.
Your soul has been a ghost
I’ve looked in you for love, my friend, and I have found
Nothing that could be distinguished from emotional dependency.
Nothing but the ghost, the ghost of love,
The ghost of your true soul.
You find a woman now and then. For 20 or 30 years
You have found a woman now and then.
But why is every woman you’ve found a dog, a bitch in the end?
Yes, you’re smarter than me, smarter than any of us fools
Who still love — we fail to see how cynical, how bitter,
We should be; we fools who still love, who pick ourselves up,
Each time we fall, and still love.
You complain that life is dull, meaningless, and unhappy.
But you have no passion for it, you know.
That ghost can no more embrace life than any ghost can
More than shake a small object, rattle some dice maybe.
You might be able to change, you know.
If you wanted to, you might be able to change.
Just quit seeking someone to love you,
Quit seeking the one you think will save you.
And take a hint from Rumi instead:
“Look for the barriers within you
That you have erected against love
And remove them.”