i am alone now

and within
the cords of my flesh wither and release
all and for once
so my eyes peer out
hunting for relief in my surroundings

but the pain only grows
for now i sit face to face
with only possessions
“property”

creature comforts
collections

crapola!

i traded life for
lifeless objects!

behold! my rat race
participation trophies!

to look now is to see
accumulation is illusion
personal gain is palliative

the hand of our soil
is ever cold and ever bare

the only value we carry down is
our Love
our Ubuntu
our Interbeing

so
i won’t be alone again
indeed i never was

sell it all
purge my bank account
my everything
i shall share every thing
of “mine”

with that pretty 20 year-old.

the one with the bosoms.
from the magazines.
maybe she likes pretty things.
and I can buy them for her.
with the money from selling these other objects.

Do you think she will have Interbeing with me then?

What if I tell her I am about to die?
That’s worth something, right?