• Posted by: JG Collins
  • Created: November 10, 2016
  • 0

We are but vessels of the creator, within, the culmination.
The culmination of the creators experiment. How we look, what color, what sex, what nationality, irrelevant. What we produce is what matters, what we bring to the table. Has the creator produce genius, or madness? What's imprinted into the fabric of spacetime is forever? How will the ledger balance at the end of things? Has the creator been successful or an utter failure? How many times has it all been run before? The puppets will never know.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

Erotic Poem – “The Bough, the Bush, and the Berry” – Romance

This poem compares a woman's virginity to the tools of a sailor, as a metaphor.

Erotic Poem – “The Flavor of Love” – Romance

This poem is a description of a beautiful woman, whose body is admired during love-making.

I Carry

It's about acknowledging and remembering the burdens of our past and future generations.


Drifting away from significant other.

fragmented, no. 2

emotions, longing, nature, aging, lost love