The Glue That Binds Soul, Karma, and Body

I speak to you, Karma,
not as judge nor executioner,
but as the silent thread
weaving through my bones,
the invisible adhesive
that keeps my spirit
pressed against this flesh.

You are neither the golden coin
nor the rusted chain,
neither blessing nor curse—
you are simply the reason
my soul chose this vessel,
this temporary home
of sinew and breath.

Dear Body, sweet container,
you house my wandering essence
while Karma whispers
in the spaces between heartbeats:
Stay a little longer,
there is still work to do.

I feel you both—
Karma in my fingertips
when I touch another's pain,
Body in the way my chest rises
to meet each new dawn,
Soul in the quiet knowing
that this is not forever.

Some days I argue with you, Karma,
demanding why this form,
why these particular scars,
why this specific ache
that lives between my shoulder blades
like a memory I cannot name.

You answer only in seasons—
spring's return teaching me
that even departure
is temporary,
that what falls away
creates space for new growth.

My body learns your lessons slowly,
Karma, through the language
of stubbed toes and sudden laughter,
through the way my heart
skips when I glimpse
my own reflection
and remember:
I am not this.

Yet here I am,
fingers typing these words,
eyes seeing the morning light
paint shadows on the wall,
lungs pulling in air
that tastes of possibilities
I have not yet explored.

Soul speaks in the spaces
between my thoughts:
This adhesion is sacred,
this temporary binding
a gift wrapped in time,
a chance to love
from the inside out.

I watch my hands move
as if they belong
to someone else—
these instruments of touch
that carry Karma's fingerprints,
these vessels that pour
my invisible self
into visible action.

Body, you are patient
with my restless spirit,
tolerating my desire
to transcend what I am
while still needing you
to taste chocolate,
to feel rain on skin,
to know the weight
of another's embrace.

Karma, you are the matchmaker
between what was
and what will be,
pairing my eternal self
with this temporary form,
saying: Learn here,
grow here,
love here.

Some nights I dream
of washing you away, Karma,
like salt from my skin
after swimming in the ocean,
imagine the moment
when the last thread dissolves
and my soul rises,
finally free.

But then morning comes
and I smell coffee brewing,
feel my cat's warm weight
settle against my ribs,
hear my neighbor's child
laughing in the garden,
and I think:
Maybe not yet.

There is sweetness
in this stickiness,
beauty in being bound
to these bones,
this breath,
these beating chambers
that pump liquid life
through miles of vessels
while my spirit
rides along
like a passenger
who has learned
to love the journey.

Karma, you taught me
that attachment
is not always suffering—
sometimes it is
the courage to stay present,
to love what is temporary
with the fullness
of what is eternal.

My body holds grief
like a sacred chalice,
carries joy
in the curve of my spine,
stores wonder
in the hollow
beneath my collarbones
where breath becomes prayer.

Soul whispers:
This form is your monastery,
these senses your scriptures,
this heartbeat your mantra.
Why rush toward dissolution
when divinity lives
in the space between
your ribs?

I place my hand
over my heart
and feel three rhythms:
the pulse of blood,
the flow of Karma,
the song of Soul—
a trinity that makes me
whole, holy, human.

Dear adhesive of existence,
glue of the gods,
you have bound me
to this beautiful burden
of being embodied,
of loving through limitation,
of finding infinity
in the finite curve
of my own palm.

I no longer rush
toward the washing away,
no longer pray
for premature release.
Instead, I dance
with your binding,
Karma, celebrate
the temporary permanence
of soul in flesh.

Each breath is a choice
to remain,
each heartbeat a decision
to continue this
sacred partnership
between what dies
and what never dies.

Body, sweet vessel,
you are not my prison
but my instrument,
not my cage
but my canvas
upon which Karma
and Soul collaborate
to paint this brief
masterpiece
of being human.

When the time comes
for the final dissolution,
when your glue, Karma,
finally loosens its hold,
I will leave this form
with gratitude
for every sensation,
every tear,
every moment
of beautiful bondage.

But until then,
I choose to stick,
to stay,
to love this temporary home
with the eternal part
of me that knows
home is not a place
but a way
of being present
to what is.

I am three in one:
the eternal that travels,
the temporal that houses,
the sacred that binds.

This is my prayer,
my poem,
my promise:
to honor the glue
that holds me here,
to cherish the body
that carries me forward,
to trust the soul
that knows when
it is time
to let go.

For now, I remain
beautifully bound,
lovingly limited,
temporarily eternal,
dancing the dance
of Karma, Body, and Soul
until the music
calls me
home.

#Karma #Soul #Body #Spiritual #Poetry #SelfRealization #Mindfulness #Existence