In Truth

we are not the clothes we wear,
but the body that fills the clothes.
we are not the body we have,
but the blood that enlivens the body.
we are not the blood coarsing through,
but the breath that feeds the blood.
we are not the breath we breathe in,
but the breath we breathe out,
and nothing more!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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