Transcendental

​Every night when Jo slept, he remained awake

Trascedental he would call it while floating away

Beyond skies, then planets, then stars then galaxies

He would fly, fly high, fly higher and see
How souls of mortals, in the REM cycle of their sleep

Floated to eternal fire, and gathered in heaps..

Figments of bright light, with tinges of hues

Some deep reds in love others sad sparkly blues

There..he saw once a shy little soul

nor red-dy or ready or blue or fiery

It stood there, every night, never joined the heap

Jo wondered if secretly the soul was just half asleep

Jo fluttered and danced and extending it’s little soul-ly hand or tail

No wonder souls have none, neither toes nor nails

The little one, turned shuddery and jittery and explode

Into thousand rainbows and engulfed them all

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