Memory floods like a monsoon, it drowns and it quenches both.
Weaves a myth about identity, lends purpose to our oath.
Swallowing all, it mulches, softens ground on which we stand.
Transforming every bank it touches, fills the mouth with sand.
Do not underestimate the current, filled with ancient pain.
Pulls the weak into its undertow, a witness to the rain.
Reliable and forgiving, our valley turns lush and green,
Fragile and always changing, a paradox, our queen.
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: January 17th, 2017 15:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 43
Offline)
Comments2
The double edged sword of memory. Nicely done.
Thanks!
Excellent imagery. One can have a photographic memory as well 😊 Very nice.
Thanks again.
<3
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