So what, now, is the colour of your soul
Does it change? Will it flaunt a gaudy frock?
Is it young, yet with a lining old as gold?
Does it rhyme like the ticking of a clock?
Do you ever wear a rainbow as a shirt
when you really should have kept things more discrete?
Are you master of a hundred ways to flirt
while looking for authentic ways to meet?
It takes a thief to know a thief
a spy to know a spy;
where is the one who brings relief
to we who all must die?
Oh wanderer, I know you, yet still I know you not,
for your heart’s the heart the beats inside of me:
we who dance, we who sing, we who know not what we’ve got
yet will pay a thousand troubles to be free.
Yes, one who is a mirror of the Light
may readily grasp Herculean tasks,
complete them in the darkness of the night
then in the morning man a stall for selling masks.
Soon the spirits of the air shall be unbound
for the melody has nothing to defend;
the colours of the soul are whirling round
yet it’s gold, gold, gold unto the end.
~ Written at La Ville au Roi 26 March 2018
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