April 12, 2012

Knelt before the pensieve
Sifting through the wastebin
Pages, pens, moments, and memories
Afloat and adrift atop tears and ink
A cauldron of yesterdays brewing
My stomach churning
My heart stirred roughly
By Father Time's weathered hands
Shepherded forward
By His metronome staff
Steadily and rhythmically landing
On my back and shoulders
As I keep looking back
As if I belonged to Times Past
To Persons Past
A Person Past
He walks me down a pathway of portraits
Of faces, of places, emotions, and mirrors
But my eyes tend to follow a path recursive
To focus on footprints behind
Rather than the beauty immediate