Inanimate

My cup would have been inconspicuous
If it had not been for the light cast in from the waking dawn
And though I loved the display of it, and that old barn wood table
I had noticed it had been alone all along and I fell to myself sullen
Swollen from years past, for-granted and a tad bit then loosened
Much like an untouched hour glass that had gathered dust
But left to sit on an misguided shelf much to high to reach
And upon taking it, it being just as fragile as it used to be
But then upon this moment,
This cup, and the dawn that covered it, I had to head
And deep within my gathered, somewhat fringed self
I had unraveled, noticed I had been alone and quite stubborn
For I too much like this shelf, merely something to harbor things
And I too inconspicuous, difficult in my relentlessness
And too suffering, with no one to share this with
For like me, merely half empty and mostly unnoticed
I had to come gather myself in solitude, unaware of the truest truths
That the most blessed things, are not kept separate on shelves
But they are gathered and given in pairs

Copyright ©2009 R.L.R