Symbols of Acceptance

So, hey! What say that needs now to be done
This day, right now, before this race is run?
Time left? Who knows, fast ebbs this passing day
So much to do so little time, I say.

Junk piles up fast at this end of the curve
Like weeds in yard, this stock pile quite absurd.
I drown in junk, unfinished from the past
It’s uselessness revealed a bit at last.

Stuff obsolete residual value slight
I’ve kept it round “it come in handy, might” –
Fat chance, not now, it’s useless now to me
Without a future length of time I see.

I guess it’s to the landfill site from here
So many things I used to hold as dear
But others have their junk they also save
The last thing needed – more junk (from the grave).

I guess what’s needed now are just those things
Which help me finish – to an end which brings
A piece or two of life that’s gone before
This cancerous news arrived at my front door.

This press of time, it bothers me a lot
I’ve always had great lead time – so I thought
But if one acts six years or more out front
When it’s cut short, confusion I confront.

Frost talked of roads not taken in the past
For me, I think it’s actions ended fast
I’ve geared up to some context new with tools
When it cut short, left me to look the fool.

Life complex is, in every aspect now
To master skill there’s little time somehow
So half-gained crafts get quickly turned aside
To clutter up the homes where we reside.

I sometimes think from trash-heap I could live
There’s so much junk that flows through like a sieve
But when my own collection I survey
I realize I tend to live this way.

So why, for me, has this junk now pilled up?
Is it because in rest of life I’m stuck?
I hunch it is, like proverb said of old
“We press to break our bonds, though foolish, bold.”

Remains, they are, like scratchings on a wall
Of wretched prisoner pressing from his cell
They speak of how our spirit’s never cease
To break through bondage striving for release.

So where’s the resolution of this quest
Of my trapped soul that’s restless like the rest?
Is freedom found at last when we lay down
Attempts to live out there on other ground?

“Resourced Inclusion” – recipe for me
That speaks so strongly, other’s love for me
Not sure just where it comes from in my past
Perhaps when that’s surrendered – peace at last.

They say when we reach out and take those things
Which given to us would satisfaction bring
We get just what we want in life of course
But not what’s needed, hence for us remorse.

So, maybe now as stuff I sort and dump
A deeper task for me lies than the junk –
To face the need I’ve felt these many years
Then drop the craving – wipe my silly tears.

How deep it runs – when love's expressed our way
It’s almost like outsiders sense and say:
“I know just where and how to cut you off”
And in this way our central beings scoff.

 So, love deprived, we stumble through our lives
E’en though like food a plenty which arrives
Within our bodies, if we can’t digest
It’s value then, we crave food without rest.

So, maybe all this silliness goes back
To culture-clash – acceptance many lack
Which finds resolve when we accept the fact
That in home-turf, acceptance is just that.

It’s been three years since process was begun
To get used to home-culture – viewed as fun.
I’ve lived estranged from home I inside knew
While craving deep acceptance here from you.

And all that time, I quenched that deep-felt need
Through acquisition – satisfying greed.
What fool I’ve been, for it has been resolved
Now culture’s home acceptance is involved.