Words are not the lips that speak them.
A body is a shadow of one shape, then another, then none.
No one holds an apple and says, "Here is a peel, nothing more."
We eat the fruit and leave the ants the core.
"Simple insects," says the man.
Simple human, beneath the tree.
And on the ground when both have gone,
those humble and forgotten gods--the seeds.
A meditation on physicality for Art FLASH at Real Toads.