We wait each day in a small open space
in another-wise closed mind of sameness
for some thing, some new thing, to come our way.
We go out to get the mail in anticipation,
awakened to an heightened expectation,
to what we might find inside the box and us.
What do we hope to find ?
Bills come due for past behavior good or bad.
Notice of unexpected wealth from contest
without real competition promising a future
which holds no need to become more than what we are.
A card of remembrance of some event we attended
far away and long ago, with those not seen since.
Best of all, a letter from a beloved friend or lover
noticing we are here and waiting to resume
where intimate communication left off awhile ago.
An appointment scheduled for the future
to enliven days ahead with something new to anticipate.
What happens when mail or life suspends delivery ?
when that small space stays empty too long
does it wither and die? Shrivel to nothingness ?
Does our sense of discovery also suspend
or does the small space expand end-on-end
until it fills an eternity of space beyond
what we can comprehend in that small space?
Is sameness day-after-day a curse or way to mend
a closed mind, and open it even greater grace
with even greater possibilities?
Time to go get the mail and fill every space
of every day, of every year with everyone
and everything I can, end-upon-end of right now.
annarino writes 