A sonnet about pure thoughts

Our thoughts are pure without any body 
Or clothes hiding one, in the trees or sky
Or by  wall peg to hang its tale shoddy.
Our body is cloth  cast off and away.

No tail hangs by  this body perfect pure.
Its meaning burns as food in intestine
Its  light envelops  trees and hills for sure
But in the end, is just  sloughed off skin.

Beyond hills of clouds we wear another 
To hide  nakedness of skin from our thoughts
There we emerge from  all-knowing mother,
Entangled in philosophical knots.

Our body is earth of dust seeking sky
Looking for soul that leaves it high and dry.

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