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The Vessel
March 10, 2015
A vessel, a husk,
That was once self-aware.
That which had contained life,
has now gone bare.
What happens to that conscience?
That spark or that flare.
That lived in the vessel,
behind its now glassy glare
Gone are the days,
it danced down the stairs.
Emptiness and solitude,
a blackness that’s fair.
We all end up there,
despite love and care.
Death is inevitable,
said the eyes with a stare.
© Sarah M., Blairsville, PA
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This article has 2 comments.
Clarabelle SILVER said...
on Mar. 12 2015 at 10:16 am
This is a great poem. It's got greta structure and employs a very interesting theme. You're really talented
I think death is interesting