with my previous poem, and I wrote this in comments.
The body and the mind are the two hands
that weave the self between them, interplay
a dialogue that may change day to day
creates consistency. Self understands
what neither flesh nor mind can apprehend
yet is a fiction and a referee
yet needs to be reined in. So fluently
its guesses become fantasies and end
in things we cannot know, that are not there
-God, Hell and Heaven – all ways to deny
the simple tasks life gives us. Mortify
the flesh, confuse the mind. Hope and despair.
The self’s a servant. Use it, never let
it rule, or you will die full of regret.