Eggshells for Eternity

What is life but a series of incarnations, which last so many months or years(if only we might endure them)?  We mutate, we grow dormant.  And then, in sleep, we kick the shell.  We awaken to find a gleaming fracture, which widens whether we like it or not.   

We know not where it leads.  "Inside" was all we knew.  And then, we find, our world is but a membrane wall whose confines we've outgrown.  The cycle repeats, a fresh incarnation, each world larger than the last, but steadily growing smaller. 

I wonder at the final eggshell...or is it eggshells for eternity?  One after another, and life is just another shell to leave behind?  Wishful thinking, that.  A fuzzy teddy to have and to hold as this shell spins.  One shell at a time, I always say.                         

Illuminated

Illuminated by a moment, too fleeting to capture--although I seek to bottle it for further study, to improve upon its nature.  So that when it comes around again, I will recognize it instantly, though perhaps I will forget the texture of your lips, perhaps you will remind me of them.  Without a shred of malice toward my grand design.  You can be sure I'll know.

Open to receive some part of me, to consume some part of me, though I wish we could receive(remind) each other equally, illuminated by a moment, far beyond your reach, and you'll go home to him, and well you should, because I only give a part of me, illuminated by a moment, and then I give it grudgefully, because you are all muscle.  I know the moment when it comes.  You'll come to know it too. 

When my eyes go vacant, and I'm swept away, and all you cup within your hands is vacancy, as I forget the texture of your lips, you will go home to him.  I cannot take you where I go, but I may tell you of it, but not if you go home to him, still you will go home to him, because he makes you feel alive, and you seek something tangible, and I cannot take you where I go, illuminated by a moment, I'll forget the texture of your lips, because they will not matter then, when my eyes go vacant, and I'm swept away, and I become unworldly.