It is asked

It is asked

With a certain discretion,

But please tell me,

What is soul

When it is at home.

Do you know

If we all have one,

And if we do

Are some people born with it

Firmly in situ,

Whilst others are a vessel

Waiting to be filled

As they tip toe through

Their days,

Aching from the effort

Of balancing

The nature of self,

With a lust for life

And need for love.

Is it a rhyme

Or a reason to believe.

Does it have a rhythm

All of its own.

Does it sing

Or even hold a note.

Does it flatter to deceive

Never knowing

Where it is going

But happy to follow

Some higher calling anyway.

Whilst you may

Pause to think,

Establish a causal link

Between music

And the soul

Some guys just live it.

You know the type,

They invented hype

Just to find an explanation

For the satisfaction

They derive

From their own

Ideas of enlightenment.

Certain of themselves,

Comfortable in their own skin.

Confident travellers,

Always one step ahead

They never join the queue,

Not like me or you

But head for the front door,

Sure they will get in

If they just knock.

But you will always know

The real soul men,

You have seen them

And they just rock.

Whatever it is

That feeds their need

To free the soul,

It is more than just a life

And style,

It is a fusion

Of music,

Art and heart.

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