The abundance of pores in this shell

Manifest as I draw experience

Only time will tell, if I've manufactured a spiritual cell

Filling each space with what I see

Experience molds my destiny

Life is the rezoning for the cause

My existence bids to nature's laws

My body a shell of human cells that contain me

Myself a kaleidoscope of thoughts that won't set me free

With each breath that I take I slowly fill the space which will be me

This feeling, it causes me to, while away the years and suck experience

Till my shell is filled and I die

Woven flesh tomb, encases my soul

Changes in seven year cycles

Still wandering, does my shell have a cause?

The end, a measure of my worth