The Hunger and the Body Itself

Seduced by the story

Of a lust-stained aftermath,

Tainted by the sweat of perfumed sin,

We tell ourselves—believe—that hunger satisfied

Has joined us to the marrow of our souls.

And in the triumph of a lie, this lie,

With bodies interfused,

We fake transcendence;

Pretend that body more than just a body is:

Soul-infused, with aspirations to the stars.

 

And yet the stars, too, beneath the light and fire

Show persistence in the being of a rock;

Strive and hunger in their matter

On an indestructible course.

We are the stars beneath the light:

The rock, the hunger, and the matter,

Reflected in another’s glory,

For ours is not this kingdom.

 

The light is but a gift bestowed,

From where, we do not seem to know:

Thoughts can only lead to thoughts,

And from our questions only questions come.

And so we lie to ourselves

As only children can,

And daub upon the night of our existence

The colours of the dawn in rainbow light.

We call it freedom, call it soul,

A rainbow arc of justice bending time

To some bright purpose.

 

Your thoughts are not my thoughts;

Your body, once possessed, no longer mine.

Our bodies, now unshackled, must go

Upon their ways,

And slink back to the cave,

To mingle with the slaves and chains,

And gaze upon the flickers of a shadow-play

That show us what we are.