How Grateful I Am Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The only existence,
Real to me...
And I believe,
Is not my ability to impress anyone...
With the acquiring of 'things'.
I have already done that to address,
To prove to myself and no one else...
Eventually 'things' to me became meaningless.

Things never returned to me a touch I felt.
And no matter how long I would buff off the dust,
Nothing reflected from them a love I wanted much.
And it occurred to me,
One day when I noticed how difficult it was...
To remove rust,
I could never be in love with 'things'.
If what I buffed up could rust like that and turn to dust.

That's messed up!

And as I began to age to prioritize my life,
I realized there was much more to living...
With a sharing and giving,
Than to waste my time and mind...
Emphasizing the nothingness of collected dusted stuff.
And those who are in love with there things glistening,
I would know immediately...
We could have nothing in common.

'You have nothing I 'see' that impresses me.'

And you have no idea how grateful I am,
You have openly expressed that observation.