The Ancient Greeks used to think
The soul was a moth, a small
Bird or butterfly that escaped
From the body once
A mortal had left his mortal
Existence behind; as such it was
A favorite motif of many
An Attic white-ground painter—
Take this piece for example,
Where we see the little winged one
In question has just made his exit
And is now perched upon the head
Of the upright dearly departed
Prior to taking off, presumably
To somewhere where no doubt it won’t be
So easy for the artist to capture him again.
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