Through an Attic Window

We can only know what we are
given. Where is the soul within
its body? Or does it watch us

from the outside like a stranger?

All day long my heart beats stronger,
at night it searches for a corner
like a frightened child.

Are souls more beautiful than dreams
or do they vanish like the stars?
Through an attic window, what watches

from afar, a lonely human being
seems nothing more than what they are.

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