The Good that Can Be

Once upon a time I felt lonely
With the unpredictable wind I gambled away certainty
For I greatly wondered all the things that could be
With hopes that I will get that one good thing that I might see

In my quest I found a box, worn and torn as could be
My friends told me, leave it be, it is where it should be
But I’m a dreamer and I imagined all the best it can be
I labored to dug it out and finally took it home with me

I treasured my box even though it was heavy to carry
Its sharp and torn edges cut me but I bled willingly
All my friends gasps and thought it was insanity
But I loved my box so much for all the good that it can be

I was proud of my box but I began to doubt
I cried many nights waiting for it to open up
To show me and the world that I was right
But I was wrong and as blind as night
For it contained a sword that stabbed me straight in the heart

My days were filled with sorrow
But I still loved my box for all the good that it can be
I still believed that there is more to it than what everyone could see
So I stood by my box hoping one day it would shine for me

And then one fateful night it struck me
My box wanted to be where it was supposed to be
It kept crawling back down where I found him
In the company of lost and broken things

Like a computer my brain froze
Like a Shaman in deep thoughts
I took a day off in search for a cause

Must I be broken too?
Should I be lost in order to be found?

Then epiphany came to me
I realized all the good that I can be
Without the box that keeps cutting me
Now I look at it and realized there was nothing more to see
For all the good it could be was never meant to be