September 9, 2008
Picking my way cautiously
Through the ruins of the Past:
In the farthest corner stands a lonely door.
Faded letters, once so bright,
Spell out:
And a pause before I step inside.
The darkness is sorrowful.
Inky, thick, smothering darkness,
Like wading through a swamp.
Panic overwhelms me, until I spy a wooden chest
Among so many other objects.
But this is…different.
I lift the worn leather lid,
And its joints give a despairing sigh.
Is it of surrender?
Inside, I find beautiful fabric;
Dusty, old, and fragile.
Almost completely worn away.
I hesitate for a moment
As I wonder if this fabric is beyond repair,
Or simply an ugly duckling hiding a swan.
I can see so much potential,
With careful craftsmanship,
This cloth can be:
An emperor’s robe,
A goddess’s gown,
A fairy’s skirt.
But left alone, it would fade into dust,
Then vanish.
Leaving behind only a memory of what could’ve been.

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