Memories like driftwood upon a sea,
flow in and out of consciousness,
and attached we may be
to their often beguiling experience,
they cannot yield their gift of reality,
just an echo of past.
We may hold on, regret,
wish for a compliant return,
but they do not exist now at all,
and our yearning is a pointless torture,
a rapture now gone in time’s wake:
an empty cup.
Clinging to past bliss is a kiss of death,
for we collide with truth,
and tethered as we are just keeps us still,
an illness of stagnation,
unable to move forward
to actually gain what we so need in dreams.
Memories can be comforting,
if they remain in the past,
not dragged up into the present
by a pointless longing, but kept sweet in mind,
like a passing cloud in kind,
a heart-warming part of us.
Once we invest in their reality,
lost we become in a strangled mentality,
cognizance blurred by irrational hopes,
far from now and wanting in scope and clarity,
a blind and fruitless malaise
when memories reign.
The only truth is now,
the only time to place consciousness
without disconnecting, and dreams of future,
memories of past are just echoes,
thoughts in passing of what we want,
to cope with the undulations of life.
Enamoured we are with beauty’s hold,
past, future or present,
but memories are reflections of other times,
reminders how lucky we are to be here,
to experience and dream,
yet remain in the now.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
videos on YouTube and book sales on website thoughtsforabeautifulmind.com, Amazon and digitalprintaustralia.com.au/bookstore