Holding on to thoughts from before,
In the safe confines of our memories we store.
Always looking back when we realise,
What we are living is a happy disguise.
Life is really what has already happened -
A chest of moments into which we send
Every new story, every photograph,
Every tearful good-bye and joyous laugh.
Life cannot be what is yet to come,
We create memories like a guitar's strum -
The music isn't heard till the strings are played,
The memories aren't stored unless our senses are swayed
With feelings like joy, resplendence or agony.
Think of life like a happy cacophony -
A ship that has sailed and come ashore
Only when we can create and store no more.
In the safe confines of our memories we store.
Always looking back when we realise,
What we are living is a happy disguise.
Life is really what has already happened -
A chest of moments into which we send
Every new story, every photograph,
Every tearful good-bye and joyous laugh.
Life cannot be what is yet to come,
We create memories like a guitar's strum -
The music isn't heard till the strings are played,
The memories aren't stored unless our senses are swayed
With feelings like joy, resplendence or agony.
Think of life like a happy cacophony -
A ship that has sailed and come ashore
Only when we can create and store no more.
