Possession

A gleaming drop,

a Sapphire ruby squeezed
from my knuckle.
A moment in time,
a single red dot.

This word "my":
my knuckle,
my house,
my property,
my blood....
hmmm,
really?

Not so sure;
really.

Aren't we just borrowing?
Tirelessly borrowing.

I hold this three-foot square,
my shadow a bit more,
but I will move,
eventually I will be gone.

Maybe not gone
in the sense of "nevermore",
but certainly gone
from this spot, 
and then from this shape.

Even now I am fleeing myself,
leaving that self of a moment ago
for this self here and now.

And so now,
a day later,
the Sapphire ruby is gone,
and so too
the crystal pain
that marked that moment.

I don't think we are that different.
We seek to possess,
to hold onto something,
if not many things
then at least a few,
and how futile it is.
And we know this,
yet we struggle to surrender.

I know this is nothing new.
I'm not more enlightened
for having written it,
nor will you be so
from having read it.
But I am compelled,
so I write,
and if you are still reading,
compelled you are as well.

So there's that.