Clouded Vision

I do have a soul.
But it's very small.
You can't see it with your eye.
You can't even see it with a microscope.
But I can feel it when it gets in my eye.
And that's why I was crying yesterday, because my soul was in my eye again, clouding everything I see.
And I can hear it, too, when it rattles against my empty insides as I walk.
A maraca with a single bead. Too little, too late.
It's all been sealed, it was a terrible mistake. But it stays.
No one can hear the maraca with a single bead.
Only when the room is empty.
Rattle rattle clink clink. Like the slender bodies of insects hitting lightbulbs.
Cosmic background radiation. Divine right.
So we fall.
So we feel.

--
I know. It's really not that good.