Sometimes I lose things.
Sometimes it's little things.
Things like my ipod or my keys.
Bobby pins and chapsticks often evanesce without warning or cause.
Sometimes I lose bigger things.
Things like my favorite sweater or my school bag.
Things like the reason I came into a room,
Or the memories of what I had for breakfast that morning.
Sometimes I lose my train of thought, or the point I was trying to make or an idea.
Sometimes I lose arguments.
Sometimes I lose friends.
I like to think all the things I lose go to the same place.
A plain white place full of hair ties and dollar store bracelets,
And I like to think they all wait there, patiently.
Wait there to be found.
One day I lost my passion.
It floated away like a helium balloon drifting toward the sun.
But I couldn't let it go.
I chased it into the sky,
Past the moon and the stars and the milky-way,
I followed it into the white place,
I faced a sea of bobby pins and hair ties and chap-sticks.
I faced all those lost arguments and ideas and aspirations and promises,
And I told them I was sorry.
They asked me why I never came looking for them, why I'd let them disappear.
I just told them the truth. I said,
Some things need to be lost, so new things can be found.
I tied my passion to my wrist with a piece of twine,
Let it float above my head like a guardian.
It reminds me that so long as that knot holds,
(I double-tied it just to be safe),
It doesn't matter how many things I lose,
I'll keep what matters.