the spirit: willing. the body: weak.

the body walks through time

like a well-oiled machine

and there are traces;

traces of the soul

that dwells in this machine:

this flesh-structure that remains as clock hands run;

a continuation of cheap existence

a perpetuation of downward spirals

until the spirit inside is awoken somehow

awarding meaning to the meaningless

and endless value to the worthless

how long, frail body, how long?

how long must you travel

how long will you live

and continue to neglect what lies within

listen carefully, and you can hear it roaming about

a distant echo clattering; 

this vivacious soul

has become a shadow; 

a ghost in an empty attic

for one day, the body will rot

yet the spirit will remain

and by then it will be too late.

for this once great spirit

has become a mere ghost.