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.


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