When we understood that we are but meat as well:

“Life begins and wilts away,
and in between it feels alive,
As it grows it joins the fray,
To live and spread, to breed and thrive.

Do you wish to hinder flesh?
Or seek to halt its cheerful flirt?
Meat is clay, sculptors mesh,
It can be made to cause you hurt.

And as life ends, or you end life,
The flowers smell all that too sweet,
Brandish spells, big guns, sharp knife,
For life will fight, to live, to eat.”