Hey Soul, How did you get here?
Backstroking in a pool of comparative luxury,
Gazing at the silvery morning half-moon,
Swept by wispy white clouds against a clear blue sky.
Shaded by trees birthed by the landscaper's plan.
While gently lapping, hugged by crystal water.
Wondering about my lifelong questions.
How was my soul assigned to me?
Is there a galactic bull-pen with ten billion souls,
Waiting to join someone formed by the creator's hand?
Jimmie's soul, you're up, at the moment of love's great performance.
You could have been with a wealthy noble,
Or destined to one struggling for survival.
Well soul, my eternal mate, you made the B-team.
Is it so bad? It's only for a few heartbeats.
Jim Norausky's Other Poems
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