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Boxes, boxes, things, things,
Dishes, silver, pictures, rings
Trinkets, nick-nacks, vases, sandals
Incense, tape cassettes, and candles
Cards, diplomas, medals, scrolls
Tax receipts and mixing bowls
Towels and blankets, toys and mitts,
Compacts, mirrors, and make-up kits
Gadgets, doodads, gizmos, books
Trivets, casters, picture hooks
Yearbooks, tassels, geodes, crystals
Ticket-stubs and water pistols
Toaster ovens, VCR’s
Computer parts and canning jars
Carvings, knittings, doilies, quilts
Yoyos, cap guns, masks and stilts...
...You continue to save boxes of the past, personal and family
household treasures; proof of once upon a time hopes and pride, and
a sea anchor of soul symbols, as if the mere weight of it all could
somehow keep your boat on course.
You are afraid to let go of the boxes you will probably never open
again, boxes that will be opened next by those you leave behind.
Saving for some day, some day. You hold onto your stuff like a
promise or a vow, a loyalty to a paramour instead of to your inherent
matrimony with the Present Moment. Is something missing in your
Now...or is it you who are missing. Do you not bring your totality to
that marriage?
You have two great lovers, the past and the future, reassurance and
promise, and how you love to lay with them! Yesterday says, “Stay
with me,” and Tomorrow says, “Come with me.” So you cheat with
them, in passionate trysts in motels of your mind, while your true
love, the Moment, waits with eternal open arms, always there, always
forgiving, as you struggle with your promiscuous ways with the
calendars and clocks, mindlessly fornicating with time.