3/19/11

While tidying my home, I chanced to find,

That digging through odd clutter and effects,

Has sent me on a journey back in time,

By portals opened up from my neglect.

Old artifacts and fragments stowed and saved,

Or simply set aside and left behind,

A record that remains of older days.

My unkempt habits now become a shrine.

A capsule of my choices well preserved,

Receipts and scraps, a map of what I’ve done.

A loose collage of what my motives were,

A glance of who I thought I would become.

Such rubbish reconstructs my history.

Is this my waste, or wasted bits of me?