Burdens of the Past
Times long gone, call to me from their desolate haunts
Of memories abandoned, and faces forgotten
They raise their heads, from a seething sea of the past
Like the waves of an angry tide, as it breaks upon a lonely ship’s mast.
I see the stormy sea, waters dark…white foam on the crest of waves,
Baring themselves, fangs of a raging monster,
Take me! Splash upon me!
I am but the weakest branch of the thinnest tree.
The gusts of wind, the slaps of rain, they try uprooting the tree,
Felling branch after branch; I’m no match for this relentless force.
Yet, I cling on. Precariously, my prospect of lasting the gale, morose.
My lips, they curl into a wry smile,
An ancient smile, of a man who has seen the world pass by.
Who lives in the present, yet feels the overwhelming lure of reminiscence,
The same ones, which were to be treasured, now dragging on like chains.
Maybe I need to free myself from them,
Maybe, it’s the future, to which I must aim,
Maybe, the key to tomorrow lies not in yesterday.
But, maybe…just maybe…days gone by hold the holy grail of inspiration,
The swishing nectar in the chalice which holds a liberating realization.
That the past is the shining evening star, burning from afar,
Ever brightening…tirelessly, the shadowy halls of the future.
For now, that shall set my cryptic wandering thoughts alight,
It’s a belief in which, I just hope that I am right.