What appears to be a moment becomes an eternity, a memory sunken away in the deep lake of life. Other times the boat scrapes against the banks of the memory river where we watch the memories float away.
Are we so sure those memories were truly ours? Or were they put there as an unconscious wish to stumble upon again, accidentally perhaps, in a future near?
Is your memory made to lead you like a siren to the shores of silence when the world is gray?
The shores’ contours are vaguer now and all the while the warm drizzle from rowing in the rain feels as if the splashes of your whole life are coming into the sharpest focus you experienced since the day you were born.
The exiled wanderer wonders, but must continue to row in silence, while in the distant background the bells ring.
(copyright 2017 twicemodern)