Poetry, Quill

Camera & Memories

Some pictures that take us back,
This time machine called a camera,
Powered by our own memory,
It takes us back to ourselves,
A mirror to the soul we’ve lost,
It’s precious, yet worthless,
As if looking through a veil,
Nothing you can touch,
Nothing you can change,
Yet you watch yourself get murdered,
Time and again,
At different times, in different ways,
And it all comes back to ourselves,
Such is the memory of pain,
The memory of love,
And mortal bliss,
Such is the memory of our lives,
A miraculous pain to bear,
That seeps through the pages,
Of a life once lived,
And a shell that now weeps for a soul,
The tears brought out,
By a picture so old.

One thought on “Camera & Memories”

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