And the feet say they’re sore
But not sorry they got the job done
That they did what they were told
But then the neck interjects
Always running toward the block
That’s not quite the case
I defer to the authority
Of the eyes all three
And I refer explicitly to the skin
Which closes us in each
A seed in its own shell
Finally I call upon the soul
Whereat the lungs collapse
The heart straightens its smile
And old conscience wanders in
Pushing a walker one day a mile
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