PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What are we really?

A vessel.

Fires burn us to dust,

then we are to the winds.



Forever eternal in spirit,

but what causes us to fall?

The gravity pulls us downward;

keeping us tied to this earth.

This hell.



Freedom is with the winds.

Acquired at death,

where mighty are slain.



Dust.

Ashes.

This is our purpose.



To live and to die.

This limbo of existence.

Over and over again.



We are really nothing.

Insignificant,

but we accept it.



This is our purpose.

This is our end.

Beneath the skin?

It doesn’t matter when it

all turns to dust.