Detritus

So

what does it say about me that I am so easily discarded?

So swiftly tossed aside after serving my purpose.

I become disposable.  I am nothing more than a means to a greater purpose.

what then is mine?

to drift and be used

when does something so unimportant become significant?  When is the transformation from trash into treasure?

When will someone see my worth?  My value?

Perhaps a better question – when will I?

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