Are subjective… As we advance in life, the way we remember things changes. The thoughts, feelings and judgements we attach to memories alters because we too are altered by the magnitude of life. We shrivel and we open up, stretching our boundaries, testing our fears, realizing our follies, acknowledging our triumphs, amazing ourselves by our courage, dreaming of a time to come,  immersing in reverie of a time gone.


Those moments I no longer recall,
Ironically linger in my mind – in a reborn  form.
How could I have forgotten it all,
While living through each memory,
Flourishing in my soul.
The fear of remembering fights the fear of forgetting,
And for one other memory,
Floating toward rebirth,
I acknowledge being a victim
of my thoughts.
The scents that moulded my life,
Like a ghost, follow me.
It’s the mint;
kales in a pan;
beetroot soup;
Chanel No5;
coconut water;
As it rightfully appears,
Swinging from one extreme to another.
Yes, I could recall some forms,
but not as I did yesterday, or the day before.
And with every passing hour,
I can trust my memory less and less …

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