I wonder if this moment shall be remembered?
Once I have since passed,
Who will know the crackle of the pretend fireplace,
Or the sweetness of jasmine in the air?
Who shall witness the dawning of this day;
Will anybody know the date?
I shall not know, and perhaps that is for the best.
Those who are remembered
Are simply moulded into the media -
Into characters and pub-quiz questions,
With fans whose names and faces they shall never know.
I am not here for honour or glory,
Nor to become the protagonist of some film that is yet to be made.
I am here in this moment, although it doesn't always feel that way.
I reread this poem from the start,
And I notice the scent of jasmine tickling my nose,
The crackling of the pretend fireplace upon my ears,
The golden hues lighting the room,
Emanating from the rising sun.
It is easy to forget the moment you are in
When considering moments yet to come.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
