Bound by Spirit

The constant wrestle of body and spirit— a dormant frame, a suffocating breath, insecure, as the elements drive it down into the darkest soil. A storm that never ends. Infinite echoes of a killing buzz. Overheating, wrapped by a thousand bees, the soul fights— for its discovery, for an insurrection of peace. Unmark the cross: as Cortez baptized me, wrapped in his buzzing machine. Mark this communication unrattled, free from the swinging blade: that my lips speak freely, that they touch the deepest part of me. Let body and soul find themselves upon one common bridge. Let them shake hands— cold hands, the common trait of their existence. And let a merger appear. Let it be written, let it be bound by the law of the spirit: or in my indecisiveness explodes with a spit of fire that conquers the frozen heart.