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Happy shopper

Shopping’s a delight for me: a thing I LOVE to do,
But I do not shop for others so I cannot shop for you.
I go shopping in the week, at the weekend and at night;
I go shopping when it’s raining; I go shopping when it’s bright.
I’ve shopped, before, on Christmas day, at Easter and at Lent;
I shopped, before, when I was broke and could not pay my rent.
I do not need a reason to go shopping every day,
For it’s something that I do in a constant sort of way:
I shop for fun and merriment. I shop for conversation.
I shop for disappointment and I shop for irritation.
I shop for new experience in pleasure and in pain.
Occasionally I shop for loss but, mostly, it’s for gain.
I’ve been a constant shopper since the day that I was born.
But I didn’t always know this fact – I used to feel worn.
Life felt circumstantial like a massive game of Chess
In which other players’ moves always got me in a mess.
In truth, I felt a victim:  I experienced my life
As a story someone else was writing, full of pain and strife.
Things would happen to me and I felt I had no say.
I remember often thinking “I don’t want to go this way.”
But I went there, nonetheless, to that place of the insane;
The place we choose to fight against the things we can’t explain.
I lived for several years there, fighting in the dark;
A child of abandonment; a dog without a bark.
And on the darkest day, I surrendered to the fight.
And the moment that I did, I was given clear sight.
I looked around and, startled, saw that everything was new;
The moment had refreshed my mind to show me what was true:
I saw that I’m the writer of my story, of my play.
And that was how I learnt that I am shopping every day.
And now that I am conscious, I buy only what I need,
For my soul is mine to nourish and to nurture and to feed.
Things no longer happen to me.  Now they happen for me;
I‘m loving every moment . . . and the moments . . . they adore me!
Everything that happens is a thing that I have bought;
Every single action; every single thought.
So when a moment brings me disappointment, grief or shame,
I do not shop for justice or for pity or for blame.
I remember that I shopped for the experience at hand
And I let the feelings run through me like water through the sand.
All of us are shopping.  It’s a thing we LOVE to do.
We can shop for what is false.  We can shop for what is true.
And when we know we’re shoppers and the moment is the shop,
We can choose the final word and the very last full stop.
© Simon Welsh Poetry 12th February 2011
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