My soul doesn’t
sweep me up in its arms
and make me feel special,
in fact it’s almost entirely libidinous,
it speaks through what attracts and repels me
and cares little for my comforts, it wants what it wants,
even if it means I must suffer the loss of what I want,
my soul sees a different picture to me, one in which
the most is the least, the least is the most
and wrong becomes right when
it’s touched by light.
DF. S-S 2025 XXXV/VII
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