No Thing matters.
I’m not trying to say nothing matters,
But things… they don’t.
It’s the people that matter.
People, and emotions, and thoughts,
But not things.
Things don’t matter.

Things that seem to matter don’t really,
They just associate with people or ideas that do.
It’s not the thing that makes you smile, it’s the memory.

Looks don’t matter.
I’m not saying that appearance doesn’t matter.
But looks… they don’t.
It’s what’s inside that matters.
Heart, and soul, and ideas,
But not looks.
Looks don’t matter.

Looks that seem to matter don’t really,
People just associate those looks with others that mean something.
It’s not the clothes that shout out for you to buy them, it’s what the clothes mean.

The old raggedy blanket hanging off your bed… It doesn’t matter.
You could live without it as easily as you live now, but your grandmother made it for you.
Your grandmother, who matters but isn’t here any more, made it for you.
It’s not the blanket that matters, it’s the gift, it’s the thought, it’s the emotion that matters.

The scuffed seashell hidden under your pillow… It doesn’t matter.
It could disappear and you probably wouldn’t even notice, but your brother found it with you.
Your brother, who lives overseas, fighting for your country, found it with you.
It’s not the seashell that matters, it’s the idea, it’s the meaning, it’s the tears that matter.

The baby clothes that your mother kept for you? They don’t matter.
She could have gotten rid of them when you grew up and no one would know, but she liked them.
Your mother, who has seen you grow up and leave the house, likes holding them and remembering.
It’s not the clothes that matter to her, it’s you.

You matter, I matter, Jerry the janitor matters, and Mr. Trillionaire matters.
Maybe some people matter to less people, but that doesn’t mean they matter less.
Someday, maybe we’ll all realize what really matters.