Ah… the memories, those which dwell within living’s terror
such complexity, each invokes smiles, or scary horror
in this moment lays, my efforts lived, at times in error
the truth be now known, life’s reflections do hone time’s mirror.
On time’s constant stream, one’s mind tunes fate’s offeror
to soul’s inner sphere, around which turns that sly conjuror
he’s mixed of many, best shown through tension’s angry furor
life’s sown seeds laid bare, a kneel to dreams, and self’s conqueror.
We, in best times swirl, our shame held, through writ to transferor
accomplishments mew, bemoans each moments prized nonjuror
the shrill of our trials, blots each strained step of life’s demeanour
results, proof implies, on memory’s pause, poise mind’s tremor.
One’s deeds so dispel, rigid drifts in a lifetimes contour
leaving clear life’s path, revealing all of self’s behaviour
those scraps which endear, are tossed as food for our devour
thoughts oiled with one’s blood, fuel pride and feed survival’s fervor.
What rises within, to clear a mind’s rustling clangour
realization’s ring, surely abet in one’s dishonor
causes anger’s stir, this taste awash with living’s flavor
one moment’s crude meal, tasting of passing times endeavor.
Conscious thoughts now turn, to that promise, of peaceful harbour
living’s angst replaced, with mind filling visions of splendour
question’s brow demands, is life just tasty feast to savour
answered simply so, not just, it needs some spicy succour.
For each, this is it; life is about Glorious Wondour
that which so exceeds, is right to selectively pondour
one’s conscious wanes weak, passively seeking passion’s ardour
beyond one’s powers, to the mysteries in one’s honour.