Body And Soul Poem by M. Asim Nehal

I had the privilege to over hear the conversation between body and soul.
Body said to Soul, I am mortal, made from dust,
need water, air, food and all earthly things to survive
I am flexible in shape, in size and grow with feed they provide
I dwell on the mercy of your pureness, the way you see this world
And the way you make my fate, though I am made of dust
I prefer to rest on luxury of material things
I hate dust and love other things like mettle and cloths
I demand and command from user and make him bend to my wishes
You are immortal, pure and spotless
Yet you surrender to my indirect commands
You try and try without any result
I show them the easy ways which they follow blindly
For you I have seen many people trying hard
Very hard to torture me by sitting at a lonely place
Deep in meditation, to attain salvation
I catch them by hairs upon one single mistake
Neither have they enjoyed you or me
And they are lost in mystery
Finally when I die they clean me up
As if I was everything from identity to existence
They put nice cloths and they take me out
With sorrow and pain
and they count all their gains
which now has gone in vain
In shot I become the same dust,
Now you tell me about your course

Soul looked bemused at initial stage
Then gathered courage to continue,
I am the Spirit, a holy one
Came to this earth with a mission
To dwell in body made up of dust
To prove my point that I obey my Lord
Who created me and commanded to go
My purity is sanctified by my mission itself
I keep reminding a duty to fulfil
Yet they keep ignoring my entire request
For this earthy things they show and trust
They think that body will live forever
They accumulate material things
Without any heed, they fall easily in your trap
And see not their accumulation as a crap
This life beguile them with all its fancies
They see this delusion with false pride
They ignore God’s commandments
For little price
And to keep me calm they built smoky castles
Finally when I see efforts going in vain
You becoming feeble with every complain
And when call is made I leave the place
With a mighty jerk I leave you with account
The burden I carry is much then expected
With submission of accounts the duty I fulfil
The light from I emerged I merge with it
My journey is complete with a high place.
It is you, the body that shall be brought back again
To bear the burden of your deeds.