The Shell

I am the shield that has protected this soul, the armor of flesh that has yet kept it whole I am the vessel that has carried it so far, the legs and the feet that have trod where we are I am the walls within which it's dwelt, the roof and the floors on which it has knelt I am all these things and yet I am naught I am corporeal, not immortal and will soon be forgot I am but a husk, just a layer of skin, the flesh and the blood and the guts here within I am but a mask, no more than a veil, for what's carried inside to the end of the trail I am but a casing, a covering at best, destined to rot and decay with the rest I am not all of this man; I am merely his shell I carry no weight; I but wait for a bell