The Hoarder

Life is not merely puzzling.

It is beyond puzzling.

It is certainly more than a puzzle.

One can only wish it was just a puzzle.

Life is more like a scroll,

yet more than a scroll.

Like an endless scroll,

with the “now” of our lives,

laid out flat between the rolls.

The scrolls of our lives,

are entangled with—

—-complicated by—

—and supported from,

the scrolls of others in our lives

Trapped,

Life is a puzzlesometimes in the rolls,

we wither,

cryptic pieces spilling out on the other side,

waiting to be sorted.

Our past, rolls-up behind us,

whether the pieces fit or not.

Life scrolls,

as a river flows,

when the pieces fit a lot.

The rolled up pieces of our past,

like cast away carpet,

are needed less than we fear.

So give away the pieces that you can,

making room for more.

Any piece that we withhold,

and keep as if our own,

might be the one,

Life is a puzzlefor which someone longs.

We can never know,

how pieces given away,

can be useful to the puzzle,

of someone else.

Can you imagine if,

for want of just one piece,

a person didn’t win,

the Nobel Prize for puzzles?

Or for Medicine?

Seems like such a heavy price.

What if you take that one piece—

—with you when you go?

Will you have enough time—

—to give them all away?

By Charles Buell

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