Palimpsest

No Less Noble 

I am alone. 

Nothing but an old rag 

Stained and tattered 

Useful enough to wipe a stain or spill. 

It was once part of something else, 

New, clean and whole. 

Now it is torn and ragged, 

Moving on to another purposes

No less noble than before 

Yet scorned. 

Nothing but an old and dirty rag 

Confined to darkened spaces 

Out of sight til need arises

And function follows form.

Forgetting past glories,

Is this what has become of me? 

What I am?

What I was?

What I will be?

It’s complicated,

But I still may be of some use.

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