Moving II

It's the moving not the distance that is the trial

The psychology is touching forgotten memories

That hung on walls so long unlooked at.

It is finding all the lost and errant bits of life

Oft times replaced because of sure belief

A can openers loss was permanent

Now seeing so many I wonder at my belief system

Or the search functions I've employed poorly.

How lazy I've been so many years.

And whose clutter is this anyway.

When did I become a hoarder and collector.

What need I of this.

I could be moving a room away and the experience

Would be no different.

There are just more elevators and doors and vehicles

In this real world.

But in my mind the pain and shame and joy are

No different were I moving room to room.

Storage lockers are just places I can pay

For more procrastination with facing the

Inevitable reality that we arrive alone

And leave alone.

No baggage cars go to heaven that's for sure

But hell may be a different matter.

It may well be the place where all that matter

Goes without the soul.

I have a boat and truck and motorcycle that

Bear with me and my cat.

We need so little but have so much

And despite the excess feel even less.

I am going nowhere with gravity

While the spin is happening all about me

And I am careless as I cling to inanimate

In the whirl of animate.

I have to really ask where my treasure is

Even memories fade with time

And certainly these wood and steel sculptors

Once promised what titanium now does.

I am moving to a better place of mind

Lighter and freer with fewer distractions

And perhaps a sense of purpose

As arbitrary as that may be.