What We Remember.
The mind's funny habit of picking and choosing
By Isabella lantryPublished 4 months ago • 1 min read
Photo by Николай Демин on Unsplash
Within the mind, a window dimly glows,
Its glass foggy with laughter, yet cracked with grief;
Each spark recalls the warmth that once was,
Each shadow clings, like a thief beneath the sill.
The brightest days return in overwhelming gleam,
Like rays through branches swaying after the storm;
Yet midnight lingers, whispering its reminder,
A hush that knots the joy with subtle pain.
For memory holds both the sun and the moon,
A woven thread of fire, water, and skin;
No truth exists in only dark or light,
But both together carve the mind’s true memory.
So let the past burn steady, faint, or deep.
A star to guide, and a shadow still to lurk.


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