Soul has no color

soul has no home ,

soul has only a body  

temporary for a dome

The heights it may reach .

the depth it may dwell

Will determine sweet heaven or bitter hell

Soul has no race, but the one it must win

A crown of glory at the end ,

after overcoming sin

Soul ain’t a brotha, a sista, rhythm or blues

Soul ain’t the fashion you wear,

from your Stacy Adams hat to your Jordan shoes.

Soul aint about black skin,

coarse hair or the music you choose.

Corn bread, chicken legs or your mammas stew.

Soul aint about Africa,

black or white yellow or red

Soul is about you the real you

Where will you live alive or live dead?

That aint the real you sleeping in your bed

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?

Is that the real me looking back at me?

That is a house for rent

Of the earthly, not heaven sent

Choose who you will serve

Heaven bound or hell bent.

We glorify the dirt

We wash and scrub it too

After dirt is washed it still smells like booboo

You see a dirty cup washed on the outside alone,

would be offensive to a guest if served in your home.

Yet we want the holy god to come in

and we refuse to lay down our sin.

Soul is the core

Soul is what will walk through that door

Of eternity.

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raila's picture

a poem of truth! I enjoyed this piece.