Soul of a day

Days have souls.

Today's soul
Is reaching,
Like me,
To the heavens.

This day will have namesakes.

This day will be written of.

And forgotten.

This day is no more, no less
Than I:

It is slope,
And precipice.

It is here
And not-here.

It hasn't got
bones or ligaments,
Hair or teeth.

In most respects, though,
It is no different
From what
You Think of
As You.

Thank this day
For being a mirror
To the you
That is grateful,

And the day
Will be grateful
For you.

Will see you through
To Wednesday.

--Mr. Gobley

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