For Riny

We have the question, existential
That some consider pestilential:
Will souls, allowed to chafe and tatter
Lose their essence and their matter?

Does change destroy one's pristine shape
And turn a purist to an ape?
Or is it that new thoughts are fungible
And that it's healthy to be spongable?

To this, I say, "Oh yes, yes, yes!"
Because I know it's not a guess.

It's boring when your soul is static;
About new thoughts, I am fanatic.
It's only then you have a chance
To sing your song and do your dance.

It's rare I find a heart so open
That in this poem I now can so pen.
The heart that rings a thousand cheers
Deserves big diamonds from DeBeers.

© 2003__Muldoon Elder