Unpossessed | A poem by Eckhart Aurelius Hughes (a.k.a. Scott)

[Scott]

Let me know what you think!


Unpossessed
by Eckhart Aurelius Hughes (a.k.a. Scott)


To the almighty dollar,
There's never been a king I didn't gladly disobey
And I'd rather be a hung rebel than a living slave

And to my house
Filled with gold
Caged in wood
And hidden steel
While greedy hands
Cling like cuffs
And the greenest grass
Is never enough
My hands are open
I've let go
And it's only my own spirit
I call home

And to the women
That I've loved
In spirit and in flesh
In the mirror is just a man
There's nothing wrong with a comfortable bed
There's nothing wrong with promises kept
If you found the one to call yours
I hope you're happy and held tight
And I hope you're as happy as me
When you look back on your life

Time frees all
Ephemeral illusions
Evaporated dreams

I have no debts
I don't borrow time
I choose to simply be, unpossessed

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What do you think?

[Shirley Ann Riddern Labzentis]

Pretty, pretty, pretty good!

[Amy_Jackson]

That last paragraph speaks volumes and sums it all up.

[Seetha E]

Beautiful... in gratitude for everything materialistic or otherwise, and free to grow further.

[Dea Ann Bridegroom]

Sounds like you have broken up with someone that was part of you. That your presently not in a relationship. You are alright with that, unpossessed.

[Stephanie Gail Stephen]

You do indeed write very deep and meaningful poetry. Beautiful words. I look forward to those days when you post your poetry.

[mrlefty0706]

Scott,
This is an amazing poem that made me think about the political problems we have today. I especially like the line "Theres never been a king I did not gladly disobey." You are obviously not a Trumper and will never recognize him as a king or dictator. Same for me. I support the Trump resistance movement.

[Magdalyne chebet]

"I choose to simply be, unpossessed" i love this part.

[Mary Daurio]

It seems the poet(Eckhart Aurelius Hughes, a.k.a. Scott) would not be a slave to money. Still, they have a house of gold, and somehow greedy hands like cuffs cling ( I feel these are other hands than the poets and the poet lets go, and wishes the women who have crossed paths with them well. Making me wonder if those are the greedy hands.) The poet realizes that time frees all. We all come to an end, and illusions are temporary; dreams evaporate, so the poet will meet the end that comes to us all unencumbered by worldly things and call spirit home. I found it a bit convoluted, but with good meaning when parsed out. Few can be like the Buda and denounce worldly goods for a spiritual life. I like my bed, and I appreciate that the poet does not judge that weakness in me.