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What Is Our Life, But A Collection Of Stuff?

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posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 12:57 PM
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Thank you all for your advice in my last thread. I will take that sincerely. I do like to spend my time writing and I am grateful to have places to share. Even if this is just a conspiracy site, there are still those of you that have encouraged me to continue, so here is another short poem. Hope someone will enjoy it.



What Is Our Life, But A Collection Of Stuff?

When I leave this world behind,
What will others be left to find?

A collection of my useless stuff,
In a trunk full of memories.

Pictures I took, mementos I saved,
Nothing but a treasure of me.

Will it matter to them the same way?
Not likely, but I will leave it to them someday.

Stories I wrote and poems, too,
They meant much to me but not to you.

I hope you will take the time to read them
When they fall in your possession.

Would you like to hear a confession?
I did write them for you.

So, you had something to remember me by,
when the years fly.

I will turn to dust and float away where the river meets the sea,
I hope the rainbow will follow me.





posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 01:17 PM
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Thanks for the flag phantom whoever you are!



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 01:36 PM
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a reply to: austincitylights

Very nice... Thanks you for sharing. This writing takes your personal and private thoughts and converts that energy into understandable words. It is your perception. You will live on through your words should someone stumble upon and find your writing. Your energy will live on.



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 01:52 PM
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As a dumpster diver I can attest to the untreasured memories people leave behind in the garbage. When someone passes all their stuff becomes someone else's junk. Most of the 'clutter' eventually winds up in landfill.

As unfeeling as that may sound, the pictures, mementos, the history of ones life in their things matters less than how they behaved towards others. Besides, everything you experienced, all your life's history is already contained in your memory, and in the memory of everyone you ever met or interacted with.

Those are your treasures, or your burden.



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 01:54 PM
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Nice poem, it reminds me of a video on Youtube of George Carlin talking about 'stuff' and how we carry all this stuff around.
Although you write about more personal and creative stuff, that I imagine has more of a value to you and to those that will follow you.
Keep it up!
I had a look at the last thread, don't take it personally, people generally don't come to ATS for poetry, although there are a few out there who do post their poems. I have in the past. (They are not always posted in this short story subforum, I've seen them in the philosophy and metaphysics which might have more traffic, and in the member art subforums)




posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 02:14 PM
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a reply to: austincitylights

thank you for your words.
everything is made of stuff and evrything will return to stuff one way or another
we all impact on each other, memories fade and sometimes even resurface.
everyone is special
celebrate life and love



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 02:15 PM
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austincitylights

The best thing you left, that they will find,
Is the collection of memories in their minds,
The moments you shared when you were hear,
No trinket or bauble could ever compare.


I like this. It reminds me that the true value in anyone is not what they have ..but who they are..Thanks for the reminder!

blend57



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 02:16 PM
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Everything we have in this world is borrowed. The only thing we take with us are our experiences.



posted on Sep, 13 2016 @ 09:54 PM
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your life is a collection of memories and experiences,those things aren`t physical things. your body is a physical thing but your body isn`t the same body you were born with, every cell in your body is a new different cell than the cells you were born with.for example your skin cells die and are replaced with new ones,just as every cell in your body has been replaced since you were born.physical you aren`t the same person that were born as, only your memories and experiences make you the same person and those things aren`t even physical.



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