What is the space of the soul?

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We go out searching on uncertain paths

crying out in the desert

in the certainty that it exists.


Would it be a collection of feelings and emotions?

Or a reliquary of ancestral values?

A moral code to be followed?




This useless turmoil is here on this planet,

arid of sacred intuitions

and devoid of high and unspeakable feelings.


But would this soul be dying of transcendence

be really a soul? Or is it only our hereditary blood

running anxiously in our veins?


How could this soul of the blood be immortal

if it is bound to values and moralities

to goodness and right actions that are purely human?


Where is the immortal soul?

Do we really possess it?

Is it something to be possessed?


The immortal soul has no space, no time!

It is independent of our will,

of our earthly goodness or dignity.


When we walk through the desert night

like wandering pilgrims, but with a sure goal,

by taking as a compass only the certainty of its existence,

we find it very near us, in the unspeakable emptiness of our heart.

And finally,

we understand that we are lacking in Spirit.

And only then we can see

the brightness of the Seven Stars.

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