Recycling Self
by Odin Roark

How common to recycle today’s
bottle,
cardboard,
can,
or bubble wrap.

How rare the regard for pleas from
mind,
heart,
memory,
wishing also to amend anew.

To arouse the sleeping heart,
thrusting its comfort-beat
upon new rhythms made aware,
ensuing musical notes of clarity
not yet upon the staff of boundaries,
affording dissonance where only
harmony's familiarity once reigned.

To revisit memory,
offering bygone experience,
wiser tools of perception,
scrambling dog-eared indexes
cross-referencing fact and fabrication,
allowing waste to fall free,
encouraging truth to persevere.

To sort through mind's many strategies,
discounting some,
discarding others,
dismantling exhausted cogs that
advance little the unknown begging at the door.

Such is to complete one's desire to remain conscious,
allowing distinction for that worth re-birthing
from chaff heretofore but the friction urging resolve.

How obvious to some
the take-to-the-curb days of consciousness.
How misunderstood by others
the smothering effect of treating excess as needed.

How aware are those who
like the winged flights on high,
weave today's nest
from yesterday's exhausted remnants,
knowing well the destiny of permanence
is but to turn-over and replanting of ashes
where forests once thrived.