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My Symbolisation of People ©

Robin MacLean
Oban, Scotland
2006

Humans can so easily be likened unto matches.
Thousands burn out each and every day.
And they are kept in peoples pockets
until they are wanted, wanted and needed.

Matches, the offspring of a thousand dead trees
kept in boxes like lonely sardines who long for the sea.
When one gets used, it is thrown out the window
and the box is replaced to its solitary confinement.

I sometimes use a lighter to light my small cigars.
He has so much more use than a match.
We ignite each others wishes
and whisper secretly into the night.

When my lighter loses usefulness,
I cast it aside like some empty vessel.
Only then do I remember my matches,
I sometimes never find them again.



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