"the shady arbor of this body, is but the temporary resort of the passing soul, what then whether it be akin to apart from anybody, or whether one would rely in it or not"
-Rama, Yoga Vasishtha, Chapter XVIII
the body is a vessel
the body is a path
and that path has a toll
so you better do the math
griffith taught me how to whistle with a reed
and then sat me down by the fountain to monologue his philosophy
i dont know if i agreed
but i listened intently
with a rag, padded his mouth gently
while my belly rumbled with envy
then i recalled rama's restitute:
the body shattered by averice is a man's decrepit lute
and fastened by arteries resembling wires but completely mute
like the prickled point of a twig which bears no flower or fruit
the shady arbor of this body
bum sweat waters the truth,
the sole of my shoe, laces undun things fall apart at the roots
if this soul is passing what is my fleshly heart supposed to do
i ask again
if this soul is passing what is my heart to do