The spirit, the soul, timeless in it’s vest
Sits observing all the rest
While struggle and strife
Abates the existence from human form
Of its peaceful wake upon its nest.
The spirit resides in a different realm
Whilts its extrication from the human shell,
It stays without emotion or care
Existing and framed by human desire
To perpetuate the ‘good’ of the mundane
So until ‘death do us part‘, it sits there.