Empty, Just Like the Glass

Empty, Just Like the Glass

An empty glass sits. That glass has watched as many young faces have passed beneath its gaze. Faces filled with joy, excitement, possibility. Young faces filled with the luxury of living a life ignorant of the price tag imposed on the living. Contrary to what's commonly perceived, life doesn't get given for free. But the price will be payed up later, those young eyes will see. 

For now the unmarred faces are filled with ambition, and plans yet unplanned. Blank faces unacquainted  with the wrinkles that stamp out innocence to leave way for experience. 

The empty glass watches as those faces slowly slip through childhood. Dropping what they contained ever less full of what filled them as they unknowingly spilled them. The gifts they were blessed with were etched with expiration dates the untrained eye couldn’t see. Lasting all the way down the road of security and confiscated once faces arrived at maturity. Once the bags of adulthood flank the now not so young eyes, the tricks of reality cease to disguise themselves behind masks of rosy cheeks and day dreams. 

And the empty glass, unmoving unchanged, empty of gleeful joy and excitement or the biting regret of disillusion, remains on top of the mantle as the young full faces pass, and slowly they empty themselves. Empty. Just like the glass.