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Carnality
could we exist without the shell
in which we must our life long dwell
toss our fleshy bods aside
and in a higher realm reside
we are spirits locked inside
a carapace, this flimsy hide
a prison which with every breath
confirms our final fate is death
emprisoned in a mortal coil
destined to a life of toil
flowers that will never bloom
fated for an earthly doom
we must strive with might and main
a fleshless essence to attain
exist upon a higher plane
escape from these constricting pods
evolve into ethereal gods
Taking Care
of this mortal coil has never been a long suit with me. Too busy living it to contemplate losing it or the "quality" of losing it. Death by accident can be quick - under anesthesia on a surgical bed would be painless - but most deaths are long affairs and hurt a lot. Fortunately, for me, pain is an old chum. A though provoking write ~a~