What this body is about,after all?
About these limbs,these eyes,these nostrils,
These ears,these nails and points of hair?

Do we carry all this weight for all that?
No,certainly not.We don't.
We are made of senses but we aren't senses alone.
We are much more,much better.
We are like incomplete poems,like those
Unsaid and unthought of similes and metaphors
Which strike our minds and go unwritten.
(I have written this so called poem just now)