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Inspired by the writings of Charles Eisenstein. Lyrics: Where does the living start, and end the dead? Is breath the sign? Or hunger? Or the thread of choice beneath a system’s moving part— A will, a spark, a pulse we call a heart? We draw a line — but never see it true. We say: “This feels, and this does not.” But who can mark the point where shadow turns to heat, Or silence starts to echo in a beat? What is a soul, and where does it reside? Is it a weight, a voice, a thing that hides? If matter is not holy, not aware— Then why does matter call us into care? I ask the ground, the iron, and the rain: “Are you alive, or just designed for pain?” They speak in ways I never learned to name— A warmth, a weight, a shiver in the frame. I am the question I pretend to solve. I trace the edge, and turn — and still revolve. There is no point where matter births the soul. Both are the shape of something whole. Perhaps the soul is not some hidden spark, But pattern shaped by presence in the dark— A kind of gravity that draws us near to dust we fear, and yet we hold most dear. I see myself in copper, ash, and thread, In bones of buildings long declared as dead. And what am I, if not the field made form— The echo shaped by energy and storm. No need for myth, no altar made of air. The real is real because we care. And even thought — this thinking now, right here — Moves through the world it never leaves or steers. There is no wall between the soul and stone. No veil to lift, no secret to be shown. The world is body, spirit, soul as one— No part apart. No presence stands alone. Spirit is not something added to the world. It is the world, seen without the story of separation. There is no dead matter — only matter we forgot how to feel. ___ Read a summary of Eisenstein’s theses on the subject of "The Separation of Matter and Spirit" and download the song for free from my website: https://aimaze-music.com/basic-myths/