We are mere men
A pathetic shell of our former glory
My hand will always be reaching forward
To the heavens
Hoping to glimpse a pinprick
Of Gods cleansing light
We are nothing
But shadows in an image of the divine

You werent always this human
This weak
The immortal soul inside
Looking out just beneath your icy gaze
Will always yourn for what it once held close
Forever is a long time.
Yet, they say,
to feel its endlessness
Is blissful.
..Ignorant?

Does the fragile chick long to leave the egg?
Or does it live without choice, forced by nature and instinct to carve its way to freedom?

In this way,
the deep recesses of your mind will always drive your mortal body forward.
A living machine
Gods true image