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
Such an awakening poem 🙂