Vessels
We are but vessels of the creator, within, the culmination.
The culmination of the creators experiment. How we look, what color, what sex, what nationality, irrelevant. What we produce is what matters, what we bring to the table. Has the creator produce genius, or madness? What's imprinted into the fabric of spacetime is forever? How will the ledger balance at the end of things? Has the creator been successful or an utter failure? How many times has it all been run before? The puppets will never know.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
