Man is but a container. Life pours in like water and keeps it until it finally rust with ages. There are times when a man would break down and unconsciously allow the water to flow out to nowhere. The life that was once inside the container breaks loose and slowly spills off the ground. Half empty, rain comes along and dauntingly fills the gray area. Rain blends with the remaining water. Serene life is left with no option but to swallow bitter pill brought by the rain to remain filled and occupied. Once lucid, everything now comes to what appeared to be life with the color the rain has brought into the container. Almost everything was forgotten -including portions of
water that initially shied away from its shelter.Man is but an open container. Pure and adulterated blitz of things in different shape, sizes and color jumps into it. Expectations are being bred with the water's lucidity. But when it tries to take in rain aside from what's been there from the start, it is called and considered defiance. Things begin to go heavy, until the bottom of the container cracks on it's own. Unfortunately, crack pitch holes are sometimes get blocked by some unfiltered residue of life's wastes. Not unless the container shakes off itself, or be turned upside down, there remains what blurred the water in the first instance.
Man is but another container. Everyone wants a new one. But once tainted, impressions remain still that much. Any attempt to get cleaned up will always be a futile one. For man is nothing but a container.
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