Moments, lost in the ages.
Images engraved in memory. Past moments reaching through time. Choices,
decisions, failures staring back at me from their inception. Glimpses of
things long gone, fragments of life past, reminding me of who I was. Ghosts
walking in my previous footsteps, each a cracked mirror of me. They walk in my
stride as the man I was. I see them, the ghosts, each one staring at me,
shaming me for who they are. They accuse me just by their own existence, for
they are the ghosts of me.
Everywhere
I’ve gone I see them, looming as my past. I see them as they do what I did and
are who I was. Always reminding me of all the wrong decisions I’ve made. They
drone on me, but I won’t forget them. They point me forward into life. They give
me eyes to see. I can forgive and put aside any resentment, but I will not
forget them, for then I can never move forward.
The
ghosts and I are bound together through time. I used to be them, though now I
am not. Now I am something new. A new creation, refashioned in a different
likeness. But, I still remember them and I will not yet forget them for I still
need them. They will continuously exist until each one will be spoken of and
remembered in a moment of eternal reckoning. I am locked in a paradox with
them; without me there is no them, and without them, I would forget who I am.
The
ghosts are of good prospect; they direct me forward into life and remind me of
who I am through showing me who I was.
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