Wednesday, October 21, 2009
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.