Now, I celebrate the loss

of all I wrote from 1965 to 1985.
Long ago,
I burned them as offerings to now
when
whatever comes to,
awakening
being truer than what I had imagined,
or had been told to hold true,
as a child.
Then
Patient Wisdom kissed me,
rubbed the sleepy from my eye and
promised to bring to mind
burned
ever words I once thought mine.