Soul vs Body

By | 19 March 2003

A soul hung, up as 'twere, in chains
Of nerves and arteries and veins …
– Andrew Marvell

Bout after bout I fight my body
over who will rule us, me or
her, and round after round sees
me thrown down, knocked out.

Physically she has the upper
fist, the flesh and blood that
gets bums on seats, while my
defence is simply the idea.

She is the temple and I am
the tenant, held like a hermit
in a strange arrangement with
the world, against my will.

Yes, I am the snail and she is
the shell and she is for sale
for giving me hell every time
she has climbed on my back.

As the audience taunts and the
bell goes again, I see certain
stars yet staunchly believe
that spiritually I cannot lose.

Life after life I fight my body
over who is the purer, me or
her and death after death we
return to the same new debate.

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