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Living Backwards looking forwards
Sometimes it's cosy to live in the past,
amongst faded memories you'd like to last,
behind the shadows that made you smile,
a safe place to dwell for a while.
Living in the former is all that we do,
an uncertain future for us to view,
tied to the past stuck in the present,
no time to relax but time to resent.
Revolutions of the mind thoughts persist,
photocopied days you try to resist,
light from the moon rays from the sun,
a celestial divider of days to become.
We cannot look forward only look back,
the road ahead invisible behind a murky track,
the spotlights on the here and today,
yet history is closer than the future far away.
We step out of the shadows toward the dawn,
lingering in the moment before we're born,
the womb of life reassuringly close,
cradle to the grave and then a ghost.
An unfamiliar journey we try to perceive,
those bound to the past are often deceived,
the only time you feel your winning,
comfy in the past from your beginning.
We tend to look backwards yet stare straight ahead,
a long-familiar history but a future we dread,
yet an unknown equation we try to prevent,
is the past meeting the future and robbing the present.