No ghost enclosed in prison of the bone,
Nor phantom monarch on a barren throne!
The spirit doth not from a distant height
Behold the world, nor weave the morning light.
'Tis not a realm where abstract shadows reign,
Nor is this breathing frame a puppet's chain.
For Ponty sang: the flesh itself hath eyes,
Where living touch and world as one arise.
No passive pawn upon a silent board,
The body reigns as perception’s lord;
In every pulse, in every grounded stride,
The world and consciousness no more divide.
Kayıt Tarihi : 20.12.2022 21:17:00
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