Am I the only
wire in the wind,
whipping around
on currents I don’t understand?

What is the soul?
Am I a tiny being
Ensconced in the pilot seat
of this aging Kamekazi  robot?
If so, how did I end up the driver?

Me who gets lost on
a piece of cardboard?
Me who cannot make a decision,
for fear I will hurt the feelings
of someone else, then end up
causing damage because
I could not make a decision?

Is the longing to be removed
from the decision making, direction taking,
crazy, lost, driving seat,
the only hint
that heaven exists;
that my soul longs to go there,
even though my body isn’t ready?

Still the rain keeps falling
and I keep watch, a bird with wet feathers,
afraid to fly.