Here on a table is a book about this person’s soul
I open it and flick through it and it begins to vanish
There is a wardrobe full of clothes to clothe that person’s soul
I open it and the clothes crumble like brittle autumn leaves
Through the colours of the soul: purples, reds and blues
Through the emotions of the moment that reflect on the world around them
Through the intellect, the instructions and the rules they have gathered and live by
Through the degrees of egotism, humility, fear and desire
From one house to another all night long until
At the first bright rays of the reason they vanish
