They say the spirit and the body makes a man whole…
But what if I want to be free and live my soul?
What if the beautiful things are not seen
What if there’s an exceeding unknown beauty within?
What if the living so called is not living but dead…
And dead rather awake.
The soul lives and the body lives,
The body dies but the soul still lives.
What is anything divine…beyond creation?
When everything is an assumed illusion?.
Dust am I to Dust I return
But I am a soul…where do I belong?
The Earth and the Paradise
Have been shuffled by the wise.
The attributes of a man and all those courage
God himself said was made in his image…
If literally , was that his goal?
To make a man physical with a soul?
Why couldn’t He make or remake
A wind like soul widely awake…
Like invisible seasons coming and going
Not leaving us wondering but rather a feeling.
That way Adam and Eve would’ve no fall
No sin, no lust, nothing corporal.
No fever and no fret
But only the serene God’s breath.
No face to judge, no physical fall
Graceful and living, yet invisible.
Jesus wouldn’t had to be betrayed
Lord Buddha, at home could’ve stayed.
There would be no blood nor murder
Nor anything amiss the shatter.
Distance wouldn’t matter for nothing would be far
Nor could the physical eye witness the horror of the war.
Living body-less
Even Devil couldn’t possess,
No treachery, no lies nor good-byes
No hollow meaning that we are born to die.
But life half-imagined
Is fully challenged.
The superior voice decides
And we mortals do abide…
The body and the soul
As the holy communion is one whole…
For body is it’s own heaven
And in the death of which we find salvation.
Power, Poem, Prose 