The cacophony of the soul
Is like a coin in an empty tin can,
Rattling away at the insides
To stop this erroneous shaking,
One must be still.
Being still doesn’t work with the soul,
As countless wise men have alluded.
I am guessing
Their souls had already transmigrated
Into another box.
So they could sit under trees
And smile and talk to us about their stillness.