What falls away is always. And is near.
The soul has many motions, body one.
How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.
I'm sure I've been a toad, one time or another. With bats, weasels, worms...I rejoice in the kinship. Even the caterpillar I can love, and the various vermin.
All lovers live by longing, and endure: Summon a vision and declare it pure.
Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.