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This body is a burden.
Its presence heavy,
trudging to and fro.
This body is a trap,
Riddled with snares and rope,
desires bind that don't let go.
This body is an affliction,
Scorned by the world,
Suffering it must know.
This body is a person,
Borrowed and not mine,
Back to the earth it shall go.
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Comments
1. I was laying in bed at around 2am in pain inside my stomach, suspect ulcer or whatever and I was semi conscious. This poem started to reel itself off to me and I remembered most of it and wrote it down in the morning.
2. Yea I know it does not follow conventional 'rules' like rhyming couplets, lines+stanzas, crossfix or whatever, it is just what I thought up at the time, so yea.
the magic of colours, sounds, taste, touch, smell, thinking is happening every moment.
the human body has a mind, which offers a chance to us to know ourselves.
the question is not how to become awakened, rather the question is how we make ourselves unawakened by turning away from what is always in here and now? - Adyashanti