Round Circling

Is the soul tethered to our mortal selves?

Escape, skim the dulcet waters - tremulous wings hover over field and fern. 

The intent is all, no hacking can prepare for that wildest of dives,
The coursing blood drives us on -

a flurry of spirit.

Elusive, soul jessed -
round circling wanderer,
you owe me no allegiance.
Some day I will lay down this gauntlet, knowing that you will not return.