When a person harvests memories —
if he is old and able to explore
his many decades, it is plain to see
there’s so much — and most he must ignore.
He focuses on tidbits here and there
finding joy but also disappointment.
He may lasso thoughts that caused despair
or rediscover themes of wonderment.
Such reminiscing is akin to prayer
as one in silence enters history
that only he can claim — must claim and bear
its weight with its attendant mystery.
He may easily distort his past
but reenactments are the things that last.