I carry with me only the highs & lows; the middle evaporates from me.
I bear the confidence & wisdom of my spiked historical armory.
I have trouble remembering the truly mundane but triumph & tragedy stay
Laughter weaves together this armor & nostalgia cements it all for the fray.
Though the center of life escapes the vaults of my memory, my mind knows it in the Now.
The futures are riveting but experiencing this Now should be taken to be as solemn as a vow.
For I only experience the fullness of life when Living currently & presently.
So I shed the past’s armor & try on the invisible safety of true vulnerability.
And find myself quiet & sanguine as I stare fixedly into space while processing everything.
That’s what memory is for me…the pointy hollowed out armor of my own thorny history.