You are a spirit, then
a god,
full capable
of making space
and energy and time
and all things well.
And there you crouch, forgotten
to yourself and hidden from
the eyes of all
pretending there to be
a beast
that walks and eats and dies.

You're not human. You're a being who is incapable of social intercourse. You're nothing but a creature, non-human and somehow strangely pathetic.

You're not a man, you're a machine.

You are not male or female, but a plan
deep-set within the heart of man.

You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are a spiritual being immersed in a human experience.

What ravages of spirit conjured
This temptuous rage;
Created you a monster,
Broken by the rule of love.

What, without madness, is a man
More than a beast after feeding,
A corpse adjourned, the half-alive breeding?

Science tells us we are merely beasts, but we don't feel like that. We feel like angels trapped inside the bodies of beasts, forever craving transcendence.

you are not a man, but a feminine monstrosity with a bass voice!

You're a beast and a swine and a bloody, bloody thief!

"Beast?" Jane murmured. "Then God make me a beast; for, man or beast, I am yours."

While you are a man, live the life of a man, and when you become a spirit, live the life of a spirit. But do not seek to mix the two together like oil and wine, and thus spoil both.

You are not a human being in search of a spiritual experience. You are are spiritual beings immersed in a spiritual experience

Without madness what is man
But a wholesome beast,
Postponed corpse that begets?