So Much to Remember

furrows tilled, in straight lines, regular rows
seeds planted long ago
harvested and planted again, and harvested again
until the soil pleaded for a rest
then less planting for 40 years
until the plow was taken up again,
sixty years had passed since the last weeds were pulled
old weeds hung on  with a vengeance
embedded , hard to pull
internalized by the soil
they had become the nature of the ground
stiff, recalcitrant, unyielding, unchanging, unforgiving
but 40 years have gone by  in this field,
old weeds served to bridge the gaps between the furrows
now  time alone,  and not disuse, did fade them out of mind, forgotten
furrows encountered cannot be crossed
but a warning,  take care, remember if possible
that forgetting clears ground without selection, taking the useful and not
what  once flourished will be no more,  gone without pattern or connection
when most are forgotten, the ground breaks
barren patches must be filled,
to cross the furrows , to get from here to there
to be able to turn faces towards  the sun
see that elevator door, the door is closed
point and press,  point and press
to no avail,  the door will not budge no matter how many times 
a car key is pointed at the elevator

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