Pandora ‘s box

In the morning,
you smell the weather upon waking,
While the sounds are still muted,
Decisions are being made,
The consequences unknown.

The lettuce is placed on the shelf,
Green with a glimmer of dew,
Beans below because it’s July,
Tomatoes red and raw.

Soon, the lettuce wilts,
Tomatoes lose their luster,
The question is where I stand,
And do I still have a chance?

I must do something, that much is clear,
The box is closed, sealed years ago,
The opening is worldly,
My fear is silent and determined.

Silent, stand still and do not retreat,
The box is rich in many openings,
And patiently lifelong,
Only I myself was guilty of closing.

Pandora’s box presented itself to me,
And for years, I stood there,
Before I had lifted only one lid,
Lifting blindly without sight.

The entire box slid imperceptibly empty,
Vanished walls, offered nothing,
As if I were cycling through space,
Content, because I no longer ascended.

In the evening, I was allowed to land,
Joyful, I hadn’t expected that,
With cold feet next to the tires,
I do not know what awaits me.

©Eddie van Aken, poetry collection: Wolkenridder 2020

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