Memories Are Photographs of the Heart

In all probability you don't recall,

the life you lived when you were small,

like a photo album full of laughter,

the good out weighs the bad, which came after.

Memories are photographs of the heart,

you spend a lifetime browsing, from now to the start,

each moment captured frozen in time,

another paragraph to create, this sombre rhyme.

Memories of joy birthdays an' all,

in this ocean of life, seem very small,

my album reflects the life I've had,

pictures of joy, shrouded by the sad.

I can only reflect on passion and pain,

to me light and dark appear the same,

tears of laughter mixed with sorrow,

takes today what tomorrow can borrow.

So in this album of the soul,

pages are blank that should be whole,

tied to the past of misery,

joy is a prisoner who wants to break free.

Images within images,

patterns that twine without,

points dots twist sound,

around around amaze,

fractals move motionless,

dismantled lines connect,

colours entwine inside,

inwardly structures captivate,

stare and be beguiled,

nothing or something,

perplex at it's impossibility,

yet utterances of dubiousness,

intensify the enigma,

intensification of sentiment,

allure the eye,

seeing is often believed,

hitherto the mind accepts,

controversy aligned by visual modality,

probability acknowledged,

dynamical systems interpolate,

chronological sequences,

colours confuse system of rules,

just gaze at the pictorial matter,

be astonished by the apparent motion,

are your eyes cozening you?