If my soul has an age–
(Which–I don’t think it does)
I think I would be at least
A thousand years old.
A millennium seems abbreviated
For the way I feel.
Honestly, to put a number on it
Is limiting– I believe
I simply must be immortal.
Not by some sort of magic, but that
My soul, much like yours– is recycled.
I am convinced
I used to be other people. I feel so deeply
For everyone and everything, I don’t think it’s possible
For my brain to be purely a fresh seed
Grown into adulthood. My body
Is certainly a limited, impermanent vessel, it has
No connection to my past perspectives
But I don’t think it makes any sense at all
To insist that a soul is brand new–
How else would anyone know what to do?
Where do you think these instincts, these urges
These mis-matched fleshy imprisonments–
How could you explain trans people
Besides a soul that got dropped into
A seed that doesn’t agree with it?
I don’t think it’s possible
For us to exist
Without a little bit of soulful inheritance.
And honestly, if you think
You’re totally original,
You might have some other problems.