Nameless Lament

The past is the quagmire, sunken and deep,
And the future is curtained, shaky and steep,
On journeys we embark, sometimes reluctantly,
We come back, but sometimes we leave.

And what remains of the past becomes history,
Preserved in the bigger books, in the annals of memory,
Fragmenting in silence, buried beneath,
Are stories of the reminiscing heart, extraordinary.

Fluid they are, within the unconscious realm,
Many such emotions, new and nameless,
I don’t chase them; I don’t want them there,
Because it’s hard to even care.

The writing pen knows no cold neglect,
Even if the hand that holds the pen shakes,
You have rendered her fatigued spirit dormant,
Aha, but look, the light of life still persists!

It’s easy to forget, is it not?
And to gallantly walk about all of town,
Telling your stories in a vibrant fashion,
With photographs, pictures, and crumbling emotion?

It is simple, isn’t it, to uncomplicated life?
To let it go, and not even cry?
To wipe away the bad memories, and to fly the kite,
Saying all is well, deluding the battered mind?

I wish I was as good an illusionist as you,
I wish I could have been as quick, and not really blue,
I’m wondering why I’m taking time to absorb,
The truths and leave some things behind.

Her picture must be pretty, I know it must,
She’s a really sweet charming girl,
Undeniably, you must have held your head high,
When you were right there by the stage, being the ogling spy.

Oh no, this is not another compliant,
I don’t govern other’s lives, nor do I wish to repent,
My actions were justified, don’t you think?
As much as yours has been.

Aha, journeys are bittersweet,
And when I’m done here, when it’s time to leave,
I’ll say my goodbye as a friend,
Even if you don’t consider me one, know that I care.