You are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit.
The flesh is not bad, of course:
it’s how the Spirit sings.
It’s only bad when we forget the singing,
when we think flesh is all we are:
a separate little sack of self
(whose selfishness is bound to get reckless).
In truth, we are all one splendid body,
visible in many bodies,
alive in one Spirit,
all of us fingers of one hand,
complete in each other.
We are both the body and its belonging.
You are the necessary syllable
of the infinite song,
the flute and the music.
Dust and wind, breath and bone.
It happens in the singing.
Alone, your single note is merely noise,
your body merely flesh.
But in the harmony of the whole great chorus
the note of love you offer with your body
is beautiful and becomes more than you.
You love your neighbor as your flesh
and are made whole,
and more than flesh.
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