FLESH
This mutable form we call our body,
flesh and bone,
blood and chi;
is the source of all our
suffering,
and it will be the end of our
"me".
Some time or another we must
face this fact:
we are born, get older,
and die.
This flesh grows rotten
sooner or later,
as our life goes slipping by.
Even if we hold great
beauty,
like a model or a goddess;
Our face and figure wither
slowly,
despite how rich or modest.
We may use our body, and
abuse it,
flaunt it, push it ,
and deny it.
Cloth it , wash it,
and run naked,
trust it, praise it, and defy it.
Cut or broken, neglected or
poisoned,
infected, cancered, or drained of our juices;
No body can weather life's
storms,
without the burden of nature's
nuisances.
The young and pretty, robust
and strong,
expect flesh to last forever;
The old and cripple,
disabled and weak,
realize how soon our soul will
sever.
If 'God' is so
"good"--almighty and kind,
Then why give us bodies that rot?
Along with ego's that think we're immortal,
as if new parts could be bought.
At least we're blessed with
hope that our souls live on,
born into heaven or take on a
new form;
But the reality is that
these bodies will vanish,
killing ego's mask it has worn.
Nature works without regard
to vanity,
the same with comfort, ease or
grace.
Its mighty force will
reclaim this body,
to its eternal resting place.
Perhaps we should not put so
much value,
in false idols made of flesh,
And keep eye on
"things" immortal,
where the Spirit rests.