Soul Must Come First

Life’s no joke,
as some like to think.
But sometimes it serves to laugh
at the absurdity of it all.

What if
                  there is no certainty?

And what if
                  our body resides in soul?
(and not the other way around)

The more spinning I do,
                  downward
into the spiraling mystery of life,
the more I can see and feel
                  soul everywhere,
and within everything.

Every meaningful encounter
is soul touching soul,
and not the friction of physicality.

So what does it mean
                  to be ensouled?

This is no chicken and egg.
Soul must come first.
Nature then becomes
the sacred expression of soul.

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This poem was written on November 2, 2025.