Most of our time
On Earth
Is simply memories.
Fleeting moments
Adding up to stories,
As high as mountains,
And as deep as oceans.
These make us happy,
These make us restless.
We haven’t just lived those times,
We relive them,
Sometimes smiling,
Sometimes saddened.
Do we exercise control,
Or do they just pop up
Like bubbles in a pond?
Can we shut out
The horrible ones?
Can we resurrect only happy ones?
How much power
Do we have
Over what to recall?
Do we have any?
Happily and sadly
Yes, yes, yes.
Like gate sentries
We allow some to go through,
And stop some as intruders
Without permits.
If it was binary,
A clear yes or no,
It would be alright
To apply such control.
But, memories
More often than not
Are also controlled by
Perceptions and biases
That may or may not
Have the same time stamp.
Thus, our present thoughts
Influence us into classifying
Our past memories:
Happy, sad,
Pleasant or traumatic.
Being the only species
With powers of reasoning
We are conscious
In varying degrees
Of the trick Time plays
With our memories.
Plain simple memories
Pass through coloured filters.
We permit these
Sometimes, as Trojan horses,
And sometimes, because we allow
Nay, approve of
The flow
That we ourselves built.
We rejoice
In being masters
Of the flow.
Time laughs at
The slaves
We choose to be.
Time and time, again.
(The featured image is from SciTechDaily)
