My Vessel

My vessel... it's my skin and bone
It is watertight and sturdy, so I will not moan

It's purpose, I think.... like a suitcase, to carry my soul
My insides are unique and make me worthy and whole

I'm going grey and my skin does sag in places
But I value people's insides and me, no, not our faces

Is the purest me, my soul or my heart?
I'm been questioning this from the very start

As I grow old, I am wiser by falling and tripping into life
I now know such pleasure but I also know painful strife

My vessel is sometimes in a fragile state
But it's just a entrance, a ageing old gate

Please open it with love and care, the hinges will creek
If you want to see me and my soul, my being and reason then all that is good will speak

Do not be afraid if your vessel is weary and in need of repair
Remember its just a container, that will breakdown in time, but for now, it's all we do wear