What is a body, that You'd give it to us?
We can't repair it; we can't even operate it on our own.
A body. That lives, and moves, and breathes, and thinks...
...organs, and blood, and electricity, and hormones, and flesh all work together, on Your command?
That You'd give us these bodies, and life we can't understand, but connect them together, to You?
To know You've woven life and body together; that one can leave and one can stay...
Why the cruel irony?
To show that the life You breathe into us all cannot be duplicated by man or machine?
To show how dependent we all are on the proper flow of blood?
To show the purpose of each part, and reliance upon the others?
For us to be given this body, and to live to destroy it in the name of freedom and choice, or live to preserve it by the same names...
But watch it decay anyways.
All we have is this moment.
The mercy of the moment: to have the last moment and recognize it as such, to see the next moment, or to be removed from the worry of moments.
The heart keeps beating despite it breaking; a beat we can't control, a beat we'd screw up if we tried.
Then we see the connection, how we think this life is tied to this body we've been given. Though, at the end of it all, which one leaves first?
How many prayers for mercy; how much can the body without life endure?
Once thought to be signs of life, autonomic responses become evidence of the separation; we begin to see clearer and clearer the body and life as two, but so closely knit together...
... that the two makes You, makes me, makes we.
