Structure/Jumble
Well, it’s certainly tall—
this much is true, towering above us—
the structure/jumble we’ve created.
But is it piled? Stacked? Situated?
That piece over there—is it substance or scaffolding?
I remember when we started this project,
Standing on the ground, an empty space and a cold breeze,
We began to gather, first just for warmth, and then for
security, and
Finally we stuck around
because all of our stuff is here.
And this stuff, it blocks the wind, but sometimes also the
light, and
This structure/jumble, it gives an uneasy sleep.
Sometimes I stay up at night, and move things around.
Sometimes I wonder what it would look like if we tore it
down and started from scratch.
Maybe it will just fall down on its own.
If it fell, would it be more of a jumble then?
If we rebuilt it, would it be better if we followed a plan
this time?
Is one of these pieces definitely the foundation?
Maybe next time, let’s not build upwards, and instead
outwards,
So that it’s easier to move the pieces, and nothing
Is supporting too much weight.
Structure or jumble—does it matter?
Does it matter if the world is of one organic piece?
Can the world just be a location instead?
Maybe function and form, plan and purpose are over-rated.
But perhaps think this structure/jumble is just unfinished,
And is waiting to be perfected.
