A long time ago when you were somewhere

that you aren’t now and you were someone

that you aren’t now, you were hard at work

finding that something that you wanted

to start with.

Didn’t matter what it was,

but first it had to be wrapped up in a ball of old newsprint

safe and sound.

After this you just follow the rest of the instructions.

Next it’s tied up really tightly in a ball of string all around,

then some scratchy garden twine

with some added rubber bands for flexibility.

Wrap all that up nice and square in butcher paper

and tie it up very neat.

Hold your finger there for me just a moment.

That’s your contribution. There!

 

Now add some sinew and muscle all around for durability.

But what was that placed in the very center of that old newsprint?

Was it a brain for intellect?

Was it a heart for a conscience?

Was it sentience?

Or maybe the five senses?

I forget.

Next mix up some flour paste and apply

papier mâché to fully cover it, wait to dry,

and then paint it white or any other shade

under the sun that you care to.

Finally, add some skin, hair and blood to your model

for extra realism

and then shape it into a human form.

 

But the mystery of what is at the center

is still open to your interpretation

because by now you’ve forgotten what was at

your center.

What is at the center of your little golem self

that gives it its spark? Maybe…

A humble rock or a big blue pearlescent marble?

A gumball, chewed and flavorless or unspoiled and gleaming?

Maybe it all depends upon the day of the week.

A Tuesday or a Friday?

An empty oyster shell or a peach?

A flaming cinder or burnt out charcoal?

A diamond or a piece of coal?

A ticking time piece, be it an atomic clock or an hourglass?

Pine needles or concrete?

Glass or cotton candy?

Fog or endless monsoon?

Will it ever be answered?

Not likely in your lifetime.

But maybe, just maybe after our lifetimes

we can tear down into that blood, hair and skin,

the paint, the papier mâché,

untie the butcher paper,

snap the rubber bands and untie the twine

unknot the string and dig down deep

into that old newsprint

like a surprise box

opened on Christmas day.