Presents

Sometimes,
I give presents to my soul,
'Look,' I say,
'See that!'
And I fancy that my soul
swells just a little
and its colours swirl and flash

'Listen,' I say
'Hear that!'
And my soul becomes pensive and quiet,
Richer and deeper

'Ah', I say,
'Smell that!'
And my soul is caught in the webs of memory,
And Beauty is breath

'Oo', I say,
'Feel that!'
And my soul broods over another texture
The Braille of the Spirit

'Mm,' I say,
'Taste that!'
And my soul enjoys the intimacy of the tongue,
devouring, and being devoured by the kisses
I exchange with the world

My soul needs these gifts
To grow
It needs to feed upon the world
And perform that ancient alchemy
that brings Beauty from the Chaos