My soul

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For three years, I am searching for the scroll

That can tell me about my soul

Where will it go when I will die?

How it makes me alive?

I want to find the origin and the end

And find why is it send

To take birth as me in this world of lives?

Is there something waiting for me to thrive?

What I think about my soul,

Is it should have some magical role

As they said, it never born nor die

And it’s something my inside

But what I find wrong is it’s not like a burning flame

Nor it can play any supernatural game

It’s me but not my physical state

It’s more than what they had said.

The concept of soul is very old

It is the difference between heat and cold

Years ago our ancestors demand

‘Isn’t we all, Living or defunct

are made from the elements same

So what makes life moving and motionless dead?’

And as the answer, they said

It’s soul.

Then they are writers like you and me

Who made soul, a ghost or a magic key.

But what my soul really is, not more or less

Than my thoughts, my behavior, my edicates,

It is the sum of lessons in my life

It’s my obligations to those whom I like

It’s my feeling and my believe,

It’s what that separate me with all my fellow human beings

Despite we all have almost the same machine.

My soul is what’s defines me.

My soul is what’s inside me.

This is my journey, to find my soul

After which I reached on the shore

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Koustubh Sinha

About the Author: Koustubh Sinha

The growing seedling on the land of India.

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