What is it
that makes you feel
Is it knowing that you have a roof to reside under?
Is it accumulating green paper into a vault in case one day you need it?
Is it spending your day within the walls of the corner office?
Is it having someone to come home to
someone who knows you
and loves you
even if you snore, wear sweatpants, throw tantrums, and hog the bed?
If you had no place to live
owned nothing but a backpack, an antique rug, and a pair of snakeskin shoes
watched pennies drown from your modest account
worked jobs as fleeting as shooting stars
and hadn’t had a relationship in years
Would you feel vulnerable?
Would you feel empty?
Would you feel insecure?
That home could be foreclosed
shattered by vibrations from the ground.
Your bank could disintegrate in one afternoon
sending your perfect stacks into the ether.
Your office could be revoked
no matter your dedication
no matter your drive.
And that person who loves you
might leave you
sometimes without even wanting to.
What if all that belonged to you was yourself?
Your only role was to live?
The one institution was the earth?
Your relationships existed
in the moments when they happened
instead of forced to forever endure?
Is it actually our belongings
and our relationships that make us secure?
The less belongings I have and the less I have to belong to
the more I learn the ever changing truth about myself
and the subjective, reflective truth of this world.
Perhaps with nothing
I am closer to security
than I have ever actually been.
Relying only on the fact
that every time I inhale
and every day the sun rises
it also sets.