Life’s Discards
What arises from a seemingly affront the house abandoned but a visitor arrives and calls for meaning
From chaos she perches on a suitcase in the center of the room wood paneled walls and a white stone
Fire place serve as the backdrop it gives the place its first telling impact a value is suggested put sight to
The test now family items strewn about only make up debris but just a time in the short past this room
Was filled with everything that engendered comfort now the flow is a negative one that runs down
Through each piece that suggests wicker chair you once were deemed precious and worthy of serious
Attachment now you belong in a trash heap but for the heart and mind that is left to assess it is a weight
Of brooding as you fix what at first just speaks of a simple travesty we feel and are moved by forgotten
Things without life or means to speak they convey essential truths they argue for endurance and a
Common thread that shows continuance even though they are abandoned and are thought to be
Worthless by the previous owner the stranger will carry them away in her mind and memory as items
She can’t forget because she elevated them to a place of endearment in the very disorder of ruin she
With tenderness without words ascribes to them a worth even if it is just costly shadows that now enter
The mystery and intrigue that intrude into all of our thoughts at times of contemplation where ever
They arise in the dark evening or at morning twig light this room and others like it make up the physical
Dimensions of that subconscious world the swirl and excitement that crashes against our outer lives
That gives it untold riches meaning without understanding but a buttress a force that defies attacks of
Various kinds we are more bemused than overwhelmed and that power rests in many things but a lot
Are just yesterdays discards
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
Life’s Discards
What arises from a seemingly affront the house abandoned but a visitor arrives and calls for meaning
From chaos she perches on a suitcase in the center of the room wood paneled walls and a white stone
Fire place serve as the backdrop it gives the place its first telling impact a value is suggested put sight to
The test now family items strewn about only make up debris but just a time in the short past this room
Was filled with everything that engendered comfort now the flow is a negative one that runs down
Through each piece that suggests wicker chair you once were deemed precious and worthy of serious
Attachment now you belong in a trash heap but for the heart and mind that is left to assess it is a weight
Of brooding as you fix what at first just speaks of a simple travesty we feel and are moved by forgotten
Things without life or means to speak they convey essential truths they argue for endurance and a
Common thread that shows continuance even though they are abandoned and are thought to be
Worthless by the previous owner the stranger will carry them away in her mind and memory as items
She can’t forget because she elevated them to a place of endearment in the very disorder of ruin she
With tenderness without words ascribes to them a worth even if it is just costly shadows that now enter
The mystery and intrigue that intrude into all of our thoughts at times of contemplation where ever
They arise in the dark evening or at morning twig light this room and others like it make up the physical
Dimensions of that subconscious world the swirl and excitement that crashes against our outer lives
That gives it untold riches meaning without understanding but a buttress a force that defies attacks of
Various kinds we are more bemused than overwhelmed and that power rests in many things but a lot
Are just yesterdays discards