If adventures had a soul

If adventures had a soul, I would find him and chain him down. The hollows of the heart, the insignificance of sorrows, all of it. And none of it. I would find him and chain him down. In ancient times, there would be droughts. The concepts of little as compared to the abundance of present reality. There would be droughts, and not a drop of water would trickle down the parched sky, onto the equally fractured earth. There would be droughts and just like you and me, there would come a thousand old children of the soil. They would till, they would toil and they would perish. The luxury of abundance, just like the luxury of thought wouldn't be available to them. And so there would be droughts as opposed to floods. As meticulously as abundance breeds floods, so does ire breed void. As he moves from flesh to flesh, from ecstasy to rapture, the lacuna of stillness fades. So if you find abundance wrapped up in folds of abstract, chain him down, sit him across and converse. Maybe will the floodgates open. Will the soul to re-inhabit, speck by speck, drop by drop.