Body

This sheath of flesh
and blood and bone
is it nothing but
spirit's ephemeral home?
Destined to be ashes
or in dust
be gone?
Or is it akin
to a beautiful vase
watering the soul
holding in place
spirit's experience
of pleasure and pain
traversing its path
on this mortal plane?
Is it not true
that every pore
that makes this body
holds in store
chronicles of journeys
undertaken and to come
sanctum sanctorum
enshrining within
glorious expression
of immortal being?

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