How deep is the soul?

“How deep is the soul?” once asked the sea,
For not even the ocean knew its depth.
What, then, must the waters think of me,
That I am borne of greater breadth?

I once pondered the ocean profound,
I marveled the azure’s expanse.
On vastness my astonishment formerly ground,
But now, inwardly, I glance.

The depths of my soul I surely know not,
And, thus, I search a response.
Was it imagined, crafted, spoken, or bought?
Perhaps, it was all those at once.

“How deep is the soul?” still asks the sea.
“One day,” I say, “one day, we’ll see.”

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