Beginning To End - Luke O' Gorman

Two empty cylinders,
One, the shell of comfort,
The other, the inner of wisdom,

One is gripping soft and comfortable,
The other filled with night, and a ball of
Knowledge added.
Combined together and ready for anything.

Transported, packed bought and opened.
Creating, spelling, writing,
Doodling in the tools of an artist.
Serving its purpose, enjoying its life.

Round and round it goes.
Knowing what, when and how to do it.
Lent out chewed on, sucked on and even lost,
It never gives up hope knowing it has a task
To perform.

But as it was created so it must die.
Running low, exhausted, fading in and out,
Leaving its indented scar on what was once living,
It passes on to a better place, knowing it has done well.

Dropped on the path to some ones haven.
Stood on by a horde of adolescence.
Scratched. Kicked. Cracked. Rolled.
And one final step by a shoe number five
Shatters it to millions of tiny shards
Killing it one final time.

I bent down to take a closer look,
But all I could see was the almost dried knight,
Seeping out of it like the blood of a hunt.

From beginning to end,
With its life so brief.
It has served its purpose.