A Scrap Of A Cardboard Box

As I walked to my mailbox, beside the road
a piece of trash caught my eye.
The remains of a crushed cardboard box,
was there in the grass, nearby.

It meant nothing to me; this litter, this trash;
merely tossed from a car passing by;
an affront to surroundings, this garbage;
leaving me to wonder just why.

At one time this box served a purpose;
it proudly boxed up some load;
but once its reason for being was gone;
its matter just seemed to implode.

It didn’t really just happen that way,
it had constantly been reused;
until its structure could take no more;
from service; it was excused.

Its owner tossed it out on the road;
an act of disgust and disdain;
and as I bent down to pick it up;
I had feelings, much the same.

The cardboard box had become a burden;
it’s existence no longer had purpose;
and as I continued to ponder it all,
the truth within seemed to surface.

In all of life, we each have a purpose;
one which we feel and see.
But now I find all purpose has gone,
and that cardboard box is me.