Prisoner of Memories

Look at me,

A prisoner of memories

Or is it imprisoned memories?

Weird though it is true,

Today the prison and prisoner, are one and the same.

I have in me, locked away, and tied in strings of faded past,

A satchel of dreams, Fragrant like dried flowers,

Showering my present with visions from past.

Damp, wet and musty smell at times

And at others of flowery meadows of summer times.

A warmth penetrates deep into my bones.

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A familiar sense of belonging,

A feeling of in tune with life,

Not a single note amiss.

I string along the music

Swaying my body, eyes closed in a trance,

Until the heat of today engulfs me,

Reminding me of my dilemma.

Yes, I am traveling across the spaces

Beyond the clutches of cosmic energies

Weightless like a feather

Dancing along paths long forsaken

For only I remember those paths much walked down.

Green leaves canopy those trails

Mist blows over those serene waters

The river shines and sparkles and shimmers

As the rays of light kisses it

A picture so exotic like a thousand emeralds shining behind a milky veil.

Forgotten are those memories,

For the entire world.

Past is long buried, they say.

But, for the prisoner of these dreams,

Life is now nothing but a shadow of this past.