Day 34: Lost Keys

I have often sat in my room , and thought about people as puzzles, as pieces that come together in my head as things that should make sense and never do. As I sit in my room filled with heaps of carry bags and mess everywhere, the chaos that fills my room which is not new and yet feels like the pieces I still need to clean up from my life. The idea was never to make sense of every piece, the idea was never to keep the puzzles fitting together but to find meaning and sometimes it is to move onto new ones. Life will always be filled with chaos that reminds us of what's missing and it is at these times I write about cleaning up the pieces. This writing comes from a personal place, not just my apartment. I still find myself between the heaps of paper that surrounds me, that builds around me from time to time and in between the light switch I still manage to find when I need to, and between all the times we have all felt just a little stuck. In between the old newspapers and candle sticks that lay on the floor, the books that shared the bed with me and times we all felt nothing was reasonable anymore, I feel it is time to clean, time to find lost keys.

Lost Keys

We wander between the mess, we tip toe among the edges of things,

We wonder have far we have come, are we counting backwards in time?

We have moved on with the timers in our head, and somehow we have lived,we have all survived

Find us among the pieces we no longer keep, the ones we could finally keep somewhere,

The roads we don't travel anymore, we have figured out they lead nowhere

Find us in the books that lay on my bed, the places we no longer exchange,

We have learned to grow up for a while, or have we simply learned to misbehave?

The puzzle pieces, we put in boxes today, we move away from what no longer comforts us,

We find the tired self taking at peek at things, we have fallen down and stood tall for a while,

We have all lost the ones we love, but for some reason we have managed to smile

No this isn't written to sadness my friend, life is rarely what we want it to be,

We are all but wanderers I feel, and yet for our chained selves we have lost our keys

We are far from writing our lost song, for now we are far from setting ourselves free.