What do I find in a pile of mess?
Nothing at all but clutter and stress.
Stacks of paper piled high.
These will be gone as soon as I die.
What's the value in things I hold dear?
I gain nothing by having them near.
Trinkets, gadgets, stuff all around.
A mountain of sentiment on the ground.
I remember a wooden glider. A plastic ape. Baseball cards.
My father's trinkets inside a chest.
As a child, I loved them best.
How did I know my father's love?
He showed me things from the shelf above.
He had once played and frolicked and run.
I felt close to him, and we had fun.
What do I find in a pile of mess?
The power to love, connect, and to bless.