Soul of man

[Snoret]

The soul of a man, orb of the soul,
The human soul, orb of pure chaos.
If it just pops out of your chest,
to see part of the world, the soul will release its probes, tiny orbs.
scattered around the world, focused on currencies and gold. Living in

ignorance as a valuable currency, Exalted, as they are
When the orbs return, look them in the eyes
And with a motherly reception
You will say... nothing.
Only a simple human gesture is enough,
They will understand
It will stay as there are more souls than people
Because the world did not know what it wants
And people lost
And orbs are searching in the woods, a bit of moisture and silence
Because how can a man find himself in a strange world?