One of my (some might say unhealthier) pastimes is reflecting on my past. I once heard someone say that time (and thereby the past) is essentially a blip in life that comes and goes without a second thought. As in, that time was then, over and done, and this time is now. Brand new. End of story. Black and white. To me, though, the past tells all. We wouldn’t be who we are without it. The moments of our life aren’t transient; they inform everything about our existence from day 1, educating us, liberating us, strengthening us. It’s a powerful tool and one I intend to use for as long as I’m able.
To Dust
The whims of the past
Whisper my name
Beckoning me home
To the place where it all began
When a sentient soul stirred
And I became me
Innocent and whole
A time that was
A time that is
A time that will never be again
One flickering flash
After another
Suspended in space
Like a faltering flame
Weeping into the night shadows
Come to snuff out its air and
Pitching me into darkness
To be reborn
Again and again, altered
For better or worse
Yet always the same
At the root of me
*Image by 원섭 곽 from Pixabay.