Amazing

Man, the things I find
every time I look for
something else!

I have a houseful
of children’s faces
and a blank easel

which appeared while I
was looking for truth
in a bottle of paint.

I own clothes
that don’t cover my shame
that were found in a box

where I had hoped to find
comfort and freedom. (The shame
came in a pocket I forgot to check.)

And those eyes! Where did I get those?
I don’t remember what I was seeking
when I picked up that pair of stones.

Amazing! Everything I am
was a discovery by default!
I turn my face away and reach out once again.

What comes into my hands this time
is the book of a lifetime
that was so not what I expected.

I put it away.
I take it out again and shake my head.
But I cannot toss it aside.

Is this a work
of fantasy,
or an inventory?