Nostalgia is a prison
built from the stones that anchor
the trenches dug as the row gets plowed
by the dragging across the ages and miles
Memory is not a shelter
it is a trap for the unprepared
a hole in the row, as cavities grow
and the rictus is mistaken for smiles
a shell of a comfortable mirror
pointed back but not pointed to self
never looking ahead to the alternate paths
just falling into the concentric patterns of death
Shatter the walls of reverie
tradition and how the things were
a trap set by the lazy unconscious
and the death rattle of growing’s last breath
Memory is for reference
Now is for life
the future is chaos blooming
Stop digging and start nurturing existence
Lose the anchors
lower the stones
breath and walk free into now
create today without false resistance
