Life’s a river
of memory
and yearning.
I remember things.
Write them down
in my journal.
Reread them
now and then
confirming
my existence.
Forgetting
one’s past
is a form of death.
We, the old,
fear senility,
the shocking
realization
that we’re simply
the sum of
our memories.
We fear losing
our memories
more then
dwindling
of desire.
-
Author:
Trenz Pruca (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2021 11:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek
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Comments5
Such an amazing title. It could stand alone with no other word.
However, what followed added the colour of your experience of this life.
So true but what you need to remember that with age our brains are so full that when we gain new knowledge some of the old knowledge falls off the other end.
Andy
'Reread them
now and then
confirming
my existence.
Forgetting
one’s past
is a form of death.'
truly wise words you share, dear poet
Good stuff , Trenz - something which is greeted with deep recognition by me.
My only antidote is to keep repeating to self, 'Live for the here and now'.
Wonderful - inspired.
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