amidst a sea of old writings

if you could see a picture of me now, where i am, you would see a bunch of papers and folders spread out at my feet, the contents of an antique Okinawan trunk I keep my old writings in. I don't know what to do with some or most of them. I have kept them all these years thinking i might someday need them or that i might get discovered as a great writer and then every scrap of every word i have ever written will be sought after. But I think that might be either illusion or delusion. So today as I sit amidst all the old script and typing i will do what i once thought to be unthinkable: i will carry some to the dumpster across the street. So there they will lie waiting for the trash man. There they will lie getting wet with rain, damp with dew, hot with sun. At the time I originally wrote everything i thought it was profound and necessary but now maybe i see it all as just practice. The good stuff meant to be kept will sift itself out of the piles into my willing hands. I will keep the few, the best, and the rest will have to go. I don't find it easy to get rid of these writings, but i must clean and cleanse and let some things just go goodbye. I must make room for the new.