What is Mine?

I can count the numbers,

But never hold them in my hands.

I can predict the letters

But never fully give them their demands.

I can cry to the sky

With tears streaming down.

Wondering why, oh why?

Is nothing mine that I found?

The answers are simple,

Less complex than one might believe.

The truth is nothing is ours,

The stars will fade and people will leave.

What is mine?

I do not recall what would be.

I have collected many things,

But none with a name tag I see.

I have collected cans,

Forgotten hearts and lost minds.

I have collected baubles and beads,

And all the wonders you might find.

But none of this is mine.

We may collect,

That which we seek.

We may hold tight,

But remember to keep your grip weak.

Nothing is ours, not for the bold or meek.

So gather what you can,

Fill your pockets with love.

Gather people on your shoulders,

And hold them above.

Keep them close,

Don’t pull away from your gold.

But keep the pouch open,

So others may fit the mold.

Don’t cry about what belongs,

Don’t decry the gods’ names.

Just hold your treasures up,

And let them return from where they came.

What is always yours,

Will always return to from afar.

Though always remember dear one,

Nothing we have, is truly “ours”.