jaadu hai

even in toronto –
among the falling flakes –
i long for toronto.

what happens to the soul
of an apple once it dies?
what happens to the soul
of a tree, the soul of an
ant, the soul of a bee?

what happens to a lego
house once taken apart?
where does the house
go? who can we ask?
who really knows? is it
the bricks that make a
house, or a house that
makes the bricks? is it
our body that makes us
move, or our souls that
make us tick?

how do we make sense
of what we’re told? how
do we make sense of
our very souls?