broken bits and pieces of memories bubbled up
out of the long gone sight, out of the unconscious mind;
spinning round and round.
Flashing by were thousands of faces,
a compilation of the loved, missed, forgotten and unknown
originated from the lost-and-found box;
stirring the past up to present.
So much was on and off the track,
yet entwined together like a bunch of tangled knots -
a master interweave of joy and despair,
extending its way down to the end.
Irreversible. The tangled could not be untangled,
for what had been done was done,
done in the past and also the future,
retrieval could only be made possible in vain imaginations.
And none could pass on further, without
passing on the bottled essence of the antecedent
to the subsequent, on and on;
all along the ever-extending memory lane.
Credit: Alison Scarpulla
