Of a soul that knows not
Its desperate needs
It is surrounded by food
Filled with first- world problems
And drowning in its own affluence
Gasping for air- for something
That its money cannot give
The languid soul ceases to live
Instead it stops flailing
For this unrecognized need
And makes just enough movement
To have a stable and steady
Source of mediocre existence
Just enough to be called a soul
Just enough to be called alive
Just enough to take comfort
In all that money can buy
Protecting its investments
And avoiding all risks
That would threaten its enterprise
Making a pretense
That it doesn’t need anything
That this gaping hole
Shaped like a cross
Is just
The soul’s imagination
Now and then this opulent soul
Scrunches up in confusion
When seeing a soul running free
On calvary’s shore
That Christ has meant
For every soul to be free
