Etched Into the Past


I look into the sadness of my mind from yesterday,
and my thoughts from then remind me that they’re never far away.
I close my eyes and scream until I cannot hear a sound,
but no one else can hear me and I cannot turn around.

The past is written, deep engraved into foundation’s stone.
I cannot move the mountain when I try it on my own.
Only time can heal me, with its waters deep and wide,
cutting through the edges of the past from the inside.

I want to build a castle where there once was nothing there.
I’m pulling stones from nothingness and mortar from thin air.
I’m gathering the pebbles from a brook I call the sea.
But the currents, swiftly flowing like the waves are drowning me.

I don’t know how to build a life when all the past has gone.
I’m making my decisions, never knowing if they’re wrong.
I’m figuring it all out as I go; I’m moving on.
And I realize I’ve been waiting here, forgotten, far too long.


What do you mean, meaning?



You ask for the meaning of life
like it has one meaning:
like a rose, or a raindrop, or a butterfly.

But life is just living – breathing – being alive!
a thing to celebrate for its own sake,
not a thing to contemplate.

Life just IS – and it’s a thing we should embrace,
spend doing what we love, just in case
we never get another chance, or time or place
to make a difference.

Scriptina by Infinite-Worlds
Text © Sunny Jackson. All Rights Reserved.