You Are Not You

You are not skin.
You are not bone.
You are not blood.
You are not home.

In skin you feel.
On bone you move.
With blood this flesh
Will carry you.

Cut off your legs,
And you're still here.
Gouge out your eyes,
You still appear.

The heart that pumps
Can be replaced
By monkey meat
Or plastic case.

The brain entombed
Within your head
Is no more you
Than swallowed bread.

All these are tools,
Skin, blood, and brain,
To carry you
Upon this plane

Of human life
For spirit made
Until from here
You will be saved.

Take off your skin,
Let blood be spilled,
Then you will see
You can't be killed.

But live in hell,
And cry for flesh
To save you from
Your wretchedness,

For body comforts
Soul from sin.
The blood atones
For selfish men

Who dwell as sprites
In jars of clay,
And fill themselves
Until that day,

They are spilled out
Upon the ground,
Where fearful then,
Their selves unbound

Are drawn apart,
And uncontained,
Consumed by those
The earth has stained

With murder, rage,
And violence,
Where fear doth reign
With insolence,

For God hath given
Fear to dwell
Upon the earth,
Enchained by hell.

And you're sent, too,
Just as his Son,
To dwell with fear
Till work is done.

Take up the shovel
And the hoe,
In hell plant love
Where it may grow,

And when these bodies
Rise from dust,
The spirits here
In love will trust,

Then return arms
And legs to soil,
To be raised up
For future toil.

Until the next sprite
Takes its place,
In chariots
Of flesh doth race,

Upon the face
Of earth until
Its tabernacle's
Blood is spilled,

And spirit there,
That raised in love,
Ascends from hell,
To heaven above.

You're not the you
You think you are.
The you that's you
Is in your heart.

Not heart of meat
That beats and pumps
The blood of life
Straight through your lungs,

But heart of soul
That can't be killed,
The heart that is
When body stills,

And heartbeat slows,
And breathing stops,
The you remains
Though body rots.