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.
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.