As I look back on the pages of my life,
and reminisce over the events that forged me into who I am today,
I am filled with sweet melancholy..
a bittersweetness that leaves me in a familiar yet distant place.
The tear-laced memories,
the distant sounds of laughter..
the warmth of gentle smiles..
all come together to form this compendium I now hold in my hands.
At times it feels so light..
and I wonder:
what have I done with my days?
these moments that are so fleeting..
what purpose have I fulfilled?
what lives have I touched..?
Other times I can barely hold it up
from the dense weight of its contents.
The lessons are what I try to carry with me;
though at times the weight seems daunting,
The pages of our lives don’t always turn so easily,
they sometimes prevent us from moving forward.
The past can be the most stubborn of barriers;
Pages like molten lava that solidify into obsidian
with its sharp edges and conchoidal fractures.
We try to climb over them,
tearing our flesh in the process
yet to no avail.
Like a cinder block tied to our feet
as we attempt to swim to shore;
it holds us stagnating;
and we know it is only a matter of time
before it pulls us down,
drowning into darkness.
And so we are left with no alternative —
but to burn those pages,
and blow the ashes into the wind.