What The Flesh Hugs Poem by Julian Takali

These wrought out, wretched, limp suits of skin
Are but a facade of gross memories from within
Hath mercy on them as they serve to die
Be gentle with thee touch as they often lie

Us, you and I, our fear doth lie
Upon the end of pulse
We art not to blame nor prosecute
As the unseeable sprite lay calm
Beneath the covers of conscious

To tend the walls of a monument to beauty
Yet neglect the flesh which hugs the soul
Is to drain a vile of poison in your muse
As she obeys silently and drowns the ghouls

Thou must enlighten oneself to the light inside!
Thou hath see past the body, fat, muscle and skin!
Thou shall never cease if they become kin
With the wave, the energy, the river from within!