Passions of the Soul

Like a lighthouse set on rocky shores

we gaze at the world within our sight

with scant regard for any cause;

indifferent as the mosquito's flight,

and chatter gaily over tea or beer

on friendship, crime, or the next career.

 

But I am ego: I stand alone,

a moral agent in time and tide.

With resolution I keep my own

counsel; hermit-like, my thoughts I hide.

For if the eyes reveal the soul,

you'll find me lying through eyes of coal.

 

O, please don't say I didn't warn -

don't intensify my ängst;

into life's sauna my self was born:

the last I wish for now is thanks.

At Alexandria I proudly bore my flame,

guiding home whoever knew my name.

 

I'm found in many walks and ways:

behind a lectern, beside a loch,

shining light and understanding. Or days

spent contemplating Scottish rain. You mock,

but such places beguile the thinking man

into thinking: “cogito ergo sum”

                         I think, therefore I am.

 

Chris Hubbard. Fort William, 2017