I had a treasure chest in my head, filled with the things I wished dead. They visited me in my sleep. Those stories they ran deep, wondered why I called it a treasure. It wasn't that by any measure, the chest seemed so full. Had this become my life’s tool? Acceptance of all that pain wrapping around me like a chain.
Was the accumulation I put away, the formulation for my next day. I pulled it out one quiet night, bursting at the seams it was winning some fight.
I looked at this thing I had built,
A ticking bomb layered with guilt.
Could I refill it some other way?
Could I influence my own day?
Considered its depths, then I measured its breath,
construction plans were underway.
Turns out I could throw it all away. I looked at each piece as I let it go. For there was treasure to be seen, I didn't know.
Every nightmare held a potential dream and when I turned it around looking at every seam, I saw meaning in it all. What a thing, It's curious what life can bring. One day it was empty, finally all gone. And I started seeing new shades of dawn.
Then I started refilling it the right way. A little more every day
With things that felt good to me,
not the things I didn't want to be.
My treasure chest is now an appreciation of life. Not the consistent cutting of some unrelenting knife.
I returned to a place we can all choose to go, a life lived vibing
within the universal flow
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