Stabbed
by thousand brunts
the heart lived on
with the aching soul
body
the sanctum of their
matrimonial home.
In their bliss
they subdued
the harsh cold
as the carcass
protected them
from mysteries of life
which would continually unfold.
The shell
made of human skin
was but a living throne
of their woes
which they together had borne.
Tattered and torn
the shed would leak
of torrential storm
but they contended
whether hay or sunshine
not caring of external form.
It was not
cement mortar or stone
human hide
was one of clay
living
yet not accustomed
to life's play.
