I stand in the middle of an empty room
with tall, tall ceilings and giant windows.
They rarely make buildings like this anymore.
It is a fact that at one point in time, this building didn’t exist,
and it is a fact that at another point in time, it again won’t.
Exactly when is unknown to me,
but I can feel its un-existence as clearly as I feel its existence
when I stand completely still and settle into the silence.
I didn’t exist when this building came together,
and I may not exist when it finally comes apart,
but I am here right now in my current form
standing within the walls of its current form,
and I can feel two points in time
touching each other
like a ribbon looping back
and falling upon itself.
               ***
This building was once just an idea, a plan,
and lay scattered across the country
in pieces and parts,
in forests and lumberyards,
in mines and foundries.
Drawn together by the magnet of creativity,
it was gifted an honorable purpose,
and a lifespan as long as its neighboring oaks.
Hands as industrious as those that built it
will someday part it again into pieces,
into piles of wood, stone, metal, and garbage.
               ***
I should give some thought to my next destination,
my cloud-me or my flower-me.
That’s one less thing for someone else to worry about,
which pile to put me in.
If I go to the ground,
I’ll be connected to the land,
but I’ll have to be patient to see the sunlight again.
Can I wait that long?
If I go up in smoke,
I’ll take up less space, and travel farther, faster,
but I’m less likely to become 
the flower I’ve always wanted to be.
               ***
I came into this world barefoot,
walked in so many different shoes,
tried dozens of different footpaths,
and will be barefoot again someday.
When someone plucks me from the ground,
and smiles at my beauty,
I hope they sense that I, too,
once walked this earth.

Copyright 2024 Kesel Wilson (entirely, 100% human-created)

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