Landscape And Soul

Though we should not speak about the soul,

that is, about things we don't know,

I'm sure mine sleeps the day long,

waiting to be jolted, even jilted awake,

preferably by joy, but sadness also comes

by surprise, and the soul sings its songs.



And because no one landscape compels me,

except the one that's always out of reach

(toward which, nightly, I go), I find myself

conjuring Breugel-like peasants cavorting

under a Magritte-like sky - a landscape

the soul, if fully awake, could love as its own.



But the soul is rumored to desire a room,

a chamber, really, in some far away outpost

of the heart. Landscape can be lonely and cold.

Be sweet to me, world.

- Stephen Dunn

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