Poem: Room


One by one, you remove the things you do not use,
the things that bring you no joy,
that serve no purpose but habit and a belief
that it is needed, when in reality, it is not.

It is a battle of course. Life is spent gathering.
There is a safety in it. An illusion
that more has value, that it will protect you,
gird you, that it matters.
Most of it does not.

Each time you do this, a purge, you are left
happier, left with room to grow, expand,
room to create, to breath, with less to do
and more to be.


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