What defines a vessel better than our hallow flesh, that carries us through time and trials. It has no captain but our minds, that directs it every move.
I’ve read that from the 2nd week of conception, our skins have already been set. Our DNA would have already assigned us skin tones before we even breathe our first breath. Our skin is so gentle during those first days, that doctors advice mothers not to bath their new born. Our skin, so superior, come into this world with abilities to cleanse and moisturise with powers to fight bacteria. It forms, it stretches, breaks and scars, and all through it we play, we smile, laugh and grow.
To joyous youth we ride. Reaching 25 with a gym bag in one hand, and an avocado smoothie in another. We’ve reached our peak, healthier and prettier than we will ever be. Our vessels have never looked better, not a pimple in sight, and firmness all around. Our largest organ knows its job, detecting hot and cold whilst protecting our internal organs are all a days’ work.
With age, our vessel reaches its final stop. Gone are the days of youth and play, all that is left is sag and excess. Our hands that once stood so elegantly, now transformed by lines and wear. Our faces, we no longer recognise.
No metamorphosis has ever been so complete, to take beauty, youth, grace and wisdom for bones and dirt, and no skin left in sight.
Our vessels are prized possession,
To be cherished and loved.