Day 3: The Vessel

What defines a vessel better than our hallow flesh, that carries us through time and trials. It has no captain but our minds, that direct its 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 in 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.

Thank you for reading.

Day 2: An Unrequited Love Poem

Love unrequited

Is nought but a plague

It makes man doubt their worth

As they crave a better understanding

Of Love, so pure, so good

That brings them face to face with sorrow

A craving of acceptance

A yearning for approval

Increased anticipation

Feeds pain and bring no pleasure

To love so selflessly

Is an act reserved for warriors.

Thank you for reading.

Day 1: Outside the Window

The New Year’s winter morning is warmer than most, by far the warmest I’ve felt all year round. There is no cold, chilling breeze and the frost flakes that usually grace our January mornings have been reported missing. Despite this, the trees still stand tall, almost victorious at the prospect of survival during these winter months. The little flies that gather in groups are still tormenting unsuspecting passer-by’s who happen to stumble into their group home.

I open my window to catch some polluted air, as the layers of clothing piled on me feels suffocating. The air is better than imagined, even my dying plants on my window sill seems to notice. It is a good morning to start 2019. I hear the birds chirping outside, allowing me to imagine that I lived somewhere other than the congested city of London. The pigeons and the cars compete to be heard, each overtaking the other in volume before both are silent. The silence is almost alarming, especially for London, but then again one must remember, it is New Year’s Day. The children have started to leave their homes to enjoy the perfectly pleasant British weather, speaking amongst themselves before agreeing on a game. The parents stand by and chatter amongst themselves, sharing their hopes and dreams for 2019, their newly made resolutions.

The sky’s mass has been overtaken with clouds, not a space left for the sky to peep through. It would be more shocking to the soul to see a blue sky in January, yet I miss the sky. Not once during the month of December did my gaze venture upwards to assess the sky, but today, I feel the need for some blue skies. Checking my weather App, I’ve been informed that the weather is 11 degrees outside. 11 degrees! I’ve seen summer months where 15 degrees was acceptable, and here in the depths of winter, on the very first day of the year, we are blessed with 11 degrees.

Thank you for reading.