Sunday, April 10, 2011

The Wineskin - NaPoWriMo 3/30

We thought we were
these mortal bodies,
just our fleshly vestments,
unknowing of the vested
grams that matter
after death.
In our sinewy wrappings
we saw nothing
consequential, and uncredited
continued our religion-spawning
yearning.
We thought ourselves entirely
of corporeal creation,
but now our sense of incompletion
makes immortal sense.
We, both beset by hollowness
but thought wholly
these unfulfilling bodies also,
are not our flesh but
phantom fragments
not fitted for this form.
The wine is not the skin encasing,
the value is in the substance.
Our bodies are but vessels, host
to the ceaseless substance of a God-craving ghost.

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