The Light of History

Memories and flashbacks are scattered on the floor

As images of the present barricade the door.

I stare at the ceiling into stars of the future kind

While sitting in the room that makes up my mind.

I sit and I watch as history floods through the shades

With the Winner of War’s stories riding the rays.

The loser has a story too, of that I have no doubt,

But it’s nowhere in the memories that we have scattered about.

When the light hits the floor, more pictures take form;

A reminder not all of history is made peaceful and warm.

Through the back of my mind runs an intricate thought,

“How does this change everything we were taught?”

Mid thought there’s a knock, strong, yet subtle and low.

Time awaits my presence, so I may not miss his show.

At the last step, as I reach for the door,

I take one last look at the past on the floor,

And think it’s a shame we’ll never have the whole story.