Memory, not needing to say a word
for having vision within the soul.
Slaves, entwined in each other
Charioteer for your mind,
A shimmering dream
A illusion for the heart
A puzzle for the brain
A entity that makes us question what reality is
Memory, like a drop of water
There one day, then gone forever
Purifying and cleansing, but not lengthy enough to catch
Others, stain you, scar you
I look inside my head, seeking secrets of my future
Yet as far as the eye can see is a canvas
A dazzling abyss of purity
I hear voice echoing in the distance
The sound of golf balls clicking brings me joy.
The ball is flying like a soaring bird.
Yet walking hours throughout the burning course.
Too soon these days of golf come to an end.
Once I met a traveler from a distant land
A land simply an antique, in his vast memory
For he walks the stretches of our realm
An explorer to the hidden path of enlightenment
I speculate and I assume
What is father I ponder
As I look into the distance, I know only Mother Nature can answer
So I begin my noble quest
Thinking of questions in my head,
I once met a young boy
Sitting on a bench in a field
Crystallized with glistening water
An endless cycle
Like the black hole of reality
Too short to remember, to long to embrace
The smallest atom that builds existence as we know it
History, a figment of imagination
Manipulator, and manipulated
Successor of time, and friend of memory
You speak of a horrible past,