When we are born in to flesh,
as babies, we love its feeling
of being alive. We adore it,
touch it, feel it; we are it
before mind separates and
comprehends what it is. Even
other people love our baby flesh;
kiss it, tickle it, powder it.
They feel the power
in the newly energized soul.

We grow with the flesh,
still feeling it through youth’s skin;
scraping it, bumping it, exhilarating
in its strength, through seasons
of sensations, while mind is taught
flesh’s science, mostly, not
its expansion capabilities.

We feel sensuality awake in the flesh,
and are reconnected to its pulse;
we stroke it, squeeze it, suck it.
We pay homage to physical form,
and the quivering extends into mind,
creating chaos of certainties,
of proud and static viewpoints.

We then decide to push the flesh,
see how it reacts to substances
of a world of advanced cultures.
And, if we’re lucky, we’ll realize
mind is in flesh, but most of us won’t.
The years will get longer and we age
from weariness of mind.

The world shows us flesh ripped apart,
minds sickly bent on destruction
of other minds of flesh. Then,
there comes a day your mind shuts down;
in agony, in disbelief, in horror
at being human, capable of annihilation.
And flesh begins to fade.

But, even as the world closes, it opens.
The crying wails of displaced flesh gather,
comfort, remember – and see good in other minds.
Flesh wakes up to reality, first, then wonders
on possibilities. And Possibility says
“Yes.” So essences work to, once again,
combine mind in the flesh.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 8/22/04