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What is a person? Body, heart and mind
(And mind is mostly made of memory).
We change, mature, grow harder or more kind,
The gift and burden of a will that's free.
What is a soul, if not one of these three?
If not, what else is there that we can find,
Some unknown piece that proves identity,
By which our moral essence is defined?
Our bodies are as fair now as of old;
Our hearts still fond, although they beat no more.
Our passion warms us, though our flesh be cold,
Our memories shine brighter than before,
And when we hunt, we share the shrieking prey.
In truth, we are the same in every way.
(And mind is mostly made of memory).
We change, mature, grow harder or more kind,
The gift and burden of a will that's free.
What is a soul, if not one of these three?
If not, what else is there that we can find,
Some unknown piece that proves identity,
By which our moral essence is defined?
Our bodies are as fair now as of old;
Our hearts still fond, although they beat no more.
Our passion warms us, though our flesh be cold,
Our memories shine brighter than before,
And when we hunt, we share the shrieking prey.
In truth, we are the same in every way.