I am not sure if this is satire or a little melancholia.  I wrote this to detail my feelings as I discard certain “things” from my home in my desire to lighten the load, and not have so much “stuff.”  I was thinking about art in all of its forms. Art that requires physical space and art that occupies mental space.  I LOVE art I can touch, but I also love art I can read and hear.  This was an effort to console me. 

Give me art.

I must discard the canvas gently stroked with your brush.

The swirls and the colors shaped beautifully by your gift.

The fiber and the texture I can feel with my touch.

It is time to let it go.

Its dwelling place is gone.

Give me art.

I want to hold it close.

Write down the words that fill that space.

The beautiful prose I hear. 

Formed lyrically from your talent.

I have a home to store it.

Give me art.

Never to be cast out.

My spirit will hold the verse

and it will rest upon my heart.