Practice, nature has plenty
It’s been at it for eons
Culling and sculpting genes
Giving humans their shape
We are not finished pieces
There’s much more to be done
The inner lies unclaimed
Nature’s stopped at the door
The mind has constructed
A barrier around its island
Where only we can practice
That choice is a hard one
Letting go of the spoils
The senses have their practice
Working diligently to ensnare
Everything into the mind’s fold
Nature has lent us a phalange
Silently working the background
Waiting for us to begin our practice