Vessels prose poem

Photo by bortescristian

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.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of