The following is a poem I had written in 2005 for submission into a anthology put out by I am not sure if it was ever published, but readers are encouraged to find out.

The soul is tangible, manageable, and fine
As large as a highway, as thin as it’s line
Cut across the vast open plain
With your words carving it up like a verbal freight train
Tangible and real like a dagger on silk
Words of silence make your soul wilt
The soul is the words before your eyes
It is weakness that will make you cry
For the soul is not what you think it to be
The soul is what is caged in you, in me.