You have to allow change, 

And sometimes you must force it,

Though it grows and unwinds from the trees,

Through the wind and the air as the sun rises,

And as it falls lower and lower in the sky,

Still it all breaths of change,

Of new and old, of difference and familiarity,

These changes bring in something new,

But a new that has happened a million times,

And that’s ok,

That’s fine,

That’s life and

That’s the way it goes.

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So we embrace the change,

Though we recognize it,

Though we know it will come again,

Though we know it’s all the same,

It is still something to be celebrated,

Yes, we have these declutter services,

These people who come to clear and clean,

To take your mess and bring order,

To declutter and to change,

And what if the change does not last forever?

If you slowly return to clutter and to mess,

it doesn’t matter,

It shouldn’t matter,

It’s just part of a process,

Part of a cycle,

And that’s ok,

That’s enough,

You demand it,

You make it your own,

And it becomes so,

So long, sweet soldier.

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Trees change every season, 

From bristling, to bountiful, to bare, 

They move in circles of life and death, 

From ravaged to ravishingly fair, 

But leaves will return after they fall,

The new flourishes where the old grew, 

and we remember that they will, 

but forget what we new, 

when we come to change in our lives, 

when we leave a place we love, 

when we travel away from our home, 

when we travel into the mist, 

we think of what we have lost, 

what is gone and dead and done, 

but forget the light returns, 

and shines on all anew

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