fresh · soul

When the fresh separated
the soul.
Liberated it thought,
enigmatic progressive.
Free without form,
business as wishes.

Then the fresh denied
the soul.
Arbitrary dominated uniqueness,
utopia in sight.
Enslaved by its lightness of being,
perhaps it might.

What we didn't remember
before if we could ever know.
Experience with a costly toll,
yet with neither lessons nor, reason.
Existence prior essence,
tears sprung from the abyss of desire.

Present eternal played with,
geometry of chances.
Ever could we treat the real as real,
through the veil after veils.
Collecting bits and pieces,
put those in their places.