To make,
To fashion is
To give appearance
To that which had existence
But not a life.
To make or fashion
A thing,
Is to simultaneously
Make or fashion
The maker.
The made
Is like the born
It will live amongst us
And alter our lives
In some or the other way.
The made
And the maker
Are of value
Not for the profits they supply
But for the stories they create.
Because when the made
And their makers are gone
All that is left behind
Is the memory
Of how things were.
When we walked
Down Memory Lane
We travelled back in time…
We relived in our minds
Those moments
That we had left behind.
Memories fill you up…
The present, vis-à-vis
Stands before you
As an emptiness
Your time was shared
And in that sharing love grew…
But remembering
Is a solitary thing…
Your ‘now’ challenges
Who you claim to be
It reminds you about
All that you’ve lost to time…
Your temporariness
Is hard to deal with
The weight of the present
Displaces your past…
You’ve left behind all
That promised to belong to you.
Yet you continue
To hold on to-
The sounds, the smells, the voices,
The laughter, the events, the sentiment…
All that was; none that is
Except in the echoes down Memory Lane.
.
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 