Many times I pass my old
home remembering the
many past times that were
birthed there, like a new-born
child coming into the world;
purity is untarnished and whole.
Memories encrusted in its walls,
slowly being covered with cobwebs
and dust created by unknown spirits.
Many pasts become tainted with
unwanted and unwelcome entities that
many become false and are then forgotten,
like a sudden wave of resistance.
As hollow as it may seem life itself
creates voids that may never be filled,
like a newly created crater; a dent in
Regardless of what path I follow
it is surely going to fork;
confusion thrives in these unknown
areas of one’s life.
My past becomes hollow causing endless
memories to leak out; forgetfulness is
not known in my own little world for
my inner being seeps out of my very own
skin, like moisture owned by the earth
we walk on.
Hollow pasts are becoming one
with nature for each of us
are created by this misunderstood
entity for many underestimate
its strength and destructive essence.
Memories become something of the past,
regardless of how often they are created;
each one becomes text in one’s unwritten
They are something of the unseen future,
alone and endured by many.