Things

 
 
It’s hard to let go of things.

But once you let go of the first one,
And the memories associated with it
Become like those clouded passing visions
We all remember from childhood,
Then losing the next item becomes easier.

And then the next item becomes
Easier again to choose,
As if loss throws value into relief.

And when that next thing goes,
The context that one’s built over years
Starts to dissolve.

A process of distillation takes place
That concentrates your
Value of things
Right down
To a few.

Enough to carry with you.

Then your perspective changes
As you let go.

If you’re lucky a lightness takes hold
And your life thus far seems contrived.

Like a game played by a child.

There aren’t many years left now.
Time to turn and face yourself.

And just as your things reduce and fall away,
The markers you measured yourself by
Fall away as well.

And you’re left with a wide open
And wondrous world
That’s yours for you to wander through
For the first time.

It isn’t too late.
Because it takes just a moment
To realise the extent of your smallness
And the scale of what you’re privileged to know.

 
 

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