Somewhere betwixt the heart and mind
dwells the spirit – hard to find.
And what is it? We’ll never know
But it’s the bit that makes us go.
to fly with Angels, walk with thieves,
feel peace within the forest leaves.
And though we never see its shape
without it there a wound would gape;
a chasm twixt the heart and mind
what’s left would be a human rind.
Hard outer shell and that is all;
a house with nought but outer wall.
Doin’ Stuff stuff