127/365: Let Them All Go
(I hate this one. I hate it a lot. I need a stash of things I can burn down so that I can actually burn something down when I want to BURN IT ALL DOWN. Writing is fun.)
I used to think everything had to last,
every diary entry,
I hoarded them in notebooks and boxes,
an historical archive for my future renown,
not knowing they could be free
to wander into the fireplace
or the garbage,
or to be left on the bench for a stranger
or pinned to a grocery store bulletin board.
I didn't know that all things go eventually,
that all things could go,
that archives in the dark
do not equal value in the light,
that one day I would shuffle off without them,
as we all do.
It would be years before I could see
that "nothing is important" is a natural corollary
to "everything is important",
and that neither of these statements demands my presence.
Nothing belonged to me.
Nothing belonged to me!
I would be a free man
with free words.
I could let them all go,
as all things go.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.