Dolor: Poetry of the unspoken

A Box of Lost Things

Someone once asked me,
"If you were given a box containing all the things you've lost,
what's the first thing you would look for?"
A month ago, I would have had many answers.

"I'd look for the innocence I've lost,"
"I'd look for my heart, whole again,"
"I'd look for childhood memories,
locked away in the room of the forgotten,"
"I'd find the old me."

But now, that question seems almost amusing.
Because one day, I walked with a clock and had a talk with it.
It told me, "The only reason you get homesick for the past
is because you forgot that what's in front of you is a Present."

"If gold were the ribbon sealing a box containing a diamond,
wouldn't you remove it to reveal what's more precious inside?
Isn't removing the seal part of unlocking the treasure?
If piles of rocks covered the diamond underneath
and a note atop the box told you what to expect,
And a warning that everything you drop cannot be brought back
And neither can you take one without dropping the other,
wouldn't you take the stones off to reveal the present,
or would you settle for the gold ribbon?"

The wise clock gave me a reason for quiet introspection.
Since then, I've lost interest in lingering in the past,
in wanting to reclaim what's already gone.

So, I answered the question,
"I would never touch the box,
never be reminded of what I've lost.
They were gone for a reason,
part of the process of unraveling life's hidden treasures.
Real happiness can only be seen
if you finally let go of the memory
of the temporary smiles included in the journey
toward the real gift.