A collector

Down the lonely road

My feet move on non-stop,

Heading towards the unknown

I rummaged my soul for things never known.

The rising sun yonder

Golden paint the horizon,

My eyes I leave wide open

Admiring the wonders of creation.

As my walk take me farther from the source

I remembered of my friends,

They are collectors of memorable items

From coins, stamps, antics and old photos torn by time.

Their pride and satisfaction

Shut their soul without expansion,

They know of nothing about many aspects of life

But, everything about the collectors’ items.

Life is funny; I chuckled as my walk takes me further

Many people come, and many people go

Some disappears unto nothingness

While some oblivious of nothingness.

Random musing I would call my mind’s play

For it tells me that I am a collector too,

Unbeknown to me suddenly the mind says so

And I begin to wonder if the say is true.

As my shadow grow lengthily at the back

I know that the sun is rising fast,

The heat sends perspiration all over

Soaking me in a bath unwanted.

I begin to ponder again, am I really a collector?

And my conscience always speaks better,

It says in affirmation without a second delay

                That my collection is of subtle memories

                of cloudy weather and sunny days.

My wandering goes on with much pondering

                What are those things subtle memories

                of cloudy weather and sunny days?

Again, my conscience rose from the depth of somewhere

Collections of memories good and bad I have gathered.

I realized against my conscience I cannot lie

Those are things that I carry without a second thought

A collection of memorable and painful memories.

                Yes, I am a collector of subtle memories

                of cloudy weather and sunny days.

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