Are we made of memories - do we consider thoughts- how we file them, the different ways we reconcile them - If I tell you my memories, do you become a part of me? If you tell me stories, too, do I become a part of you? So many stories we share and trade - So, of which memories am I made? I hold the tales of lives past inside me, Memories from people in pages of books - Are they a part of me, too? And do we pick and choose the ones we keep, and the ones we lose? If I could, I would choose to erase all your memories of her face - they'd vanish without a trace - and I'd put mine in their place - If I thought it wouldn't change or rearrange the way you reatin you - If you simply couldn't recollect the time you'd spent with someone else could you still be you? Is it the experience we have in the present that represents us Or the memory of what happened behind us that reminds us and thus defines us? After awhile, one feels that time and space are barriers to memory - always a mistake- Wizards have said the doom of man is his ability to forget or remember without regret - So I take my precious thoughts that make me - Visions of time pleasurably well spent - 'tis in my memory lock'd and you yourself shall keep the key of it.
Reason for writing:
The movie Dark City where memories were created and altered each night;
the poem I submitted about memory and scent;
a line from the movie "excalibur", where Merlin bemoans the ignorance of mankind;
and of course I filched the last two lines from the Bard himself.
Birth sign: Capricorn
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Stacey.