Oh mind, thou art a bastion for the truth,
O soul, thou art the metaphysic geist-
The corpse, not perfect, even in the youth,
Does ever wish, of virtue such, the heist!
The body knows it holdeth little gold,
A beauty, yes, but only to the eye,
And time destroys the beauty of the old,
The curse of man is ever that we die.
The mind and soul may yet be quite pristine-
And yet, when unfulfilled they are a void,
Their beauty lies in golden wisdom’s gleam,
On Earth their treasure cannot be destroyed!
And thus is man, he is of parts composed-
Philosopher and beast, in him exposed.
© Jerusalemrising (Tyler O’Neil)
Written February 27, 2007