Worn,
outmoded,
cast aside,
the debris,
the wake
of life,
our lives,
your life.
Spare parts,
for sure.
But for what?
For kitch?
For retro cool?
For restoration
of what once
was good?
But good how?
In what sense?
Were they, were they
the seeds of
something that
with refinement
serves us
better now?
Or, were they
just good then,
when then
was then,
but now is now
with needs we
have of wholly
different kind?
We’ve moved beyond
these things
all left behind.
But what of the
craft, the effort,
the spirit held within,
the spirit by which
connection binds?
These things,
these discarded things,
they once were me.
I was stronger, surer,
more handsome
and adept.
Without them now,
surely I am less.
I’m sad.
For new is
forced upon me,
when good
was doing fine.
Yes, my things
have withered,
but mostly I have not.
Who am I with
new things all about?
If I connect,
will I be as I was?
Or, must I begin again
to build a thing
that someday might
I’ll recognize as me?
|
Monday, December 4th, 2017
Miami
AZ
USA
|
