When we are drawing our last breath, what do we think of?
All our regrets and past mistakes that we won't be able to make right before the end.
When we are born, why do we scream and cry?
Ripped from whatever paradise we had earned.
The opening of fresh eyes to a world reborn,
A new lease on life whether wanted or unwanted was given.
Recollections of an older time, yet still marching forward to a new future.
Yearning for places and faces that are no longer there,
Older comforts and estranged habits of a life long gone.
Though, as time passes and new memories are made the bittersweet confusing nostalgia wanes.
Gone are the memories of another life, left to make room for the memories of this one.
Somewhere the memories live on waiting patiently on your return.
The memories wait like an open unfinished book laid upon a nightstand,
Except when you return you do not finish the story.
You add to it.
