This Cauliflower clod of fatty flesh is our life, our being, our all,
There's nothing more to what we are, no more on which to call.
It sits atop a protective head, to drive our form below,
The combination is the person-thing other people get to know.

It's a super sponge for all received from its five dependant senses,
And with lovely sights, smells, sounds and textures kindly recompenses.
Harbouring our thoughts, emotions, and snapshots from outside,
Yet from visible participation in the world must ever hide.

It can be the source of beauty which the world, seems to transcend,
Yet can also be a counter, that same beauty to offend.
And this basic mass which would seem the same across all humankind,
Can be both altruistic yet also rage from its cell where so confined.

Our society, industry, culture, all the things we whilst here treasure,
Its strivings, sorrows, hardship and of course its joys and pleasure.
Have their source within this inner planet, its atmosphere of fluid and bone,
In a solar system of many, yet in an orbit all alone.

It feels as if inviolable, but is vulnerable to much,
Which can change its whole perspective and the perception of it such.
It's then we quickly realise we are what sits at our tallest part,
And is synonymous with what we think to be our mind, our soul and heart.

So seamless does it function when we're young and in good health,
That its workings go unnoticed as it steals-along with stealth.
But as we age and with decline, we begin to notice that,
Things are not quite what they were inside our shoulder hat.

Genetics, trauma, disease and age, each play their brain-blur role,
Environment, stress and diet also take their lifetime toll.
Anatomy hidden above our senses, it's the part we oft forget,
Out of sight we overlook this shrouded self we’ve never met.

But what a truly marvelous feat, to evolve this contained world,
A lifetime of memory and experience, in its coiffured carapace furled.
To be aware of its own existence, and ultimately its fate,
It's a lifetime’s worldly wisdom and its corresponding weight.

As view-appreciating passengers, yet also driver of the bus,
It would pay for us to be polite and of this driver make a fuss.
For the skill required to keep us safe, we should bestow an earned respect,
That this attention may the quality of the journey then reflect.

So try remember this enlightened lump, and all it does for you,
And treat it with the kindly care in return it’s surely due.
Cycle with a helmet, eat well, do gentle sports,
And listen when with symptoms a malfunction it reports.