It seems as though I'm often taking steps backwards,
As if time were a chunk of clay that I could manipulate.
But in reality, its quite the opposite;
Time's endless march is just about the only constant I've come to know.
It's almost become an enemy of mine
For as it moves forth relentlessly,
I sink further and further into the past.
I try to keep my neck above these waters
Just enough to gasp a breath of the future,
But history has a tight grip on my ankles
And diverts my attention from what's up above.
And there's a piece of me that doesn't mind;
After all, how could I ever turn away from that which brought me to where I am now?
But such a complex situation is a two-headed monster.
Because the other pieces of me cannot go forth.
The other parts of me realize that I'm so heavily cloaked in a coat of nostalgia
Endlessly searching for that which once was.
Sprinting after what I used to have.
And these impossible desires shield my vision,
But I cannot take my eyes off of the vibrant colors
Unveiled by the past
Just to stare at the bleak grey-scale of an uncertain future.
I guess that's the beauty of yesterday
It's the sights
The indescribable moments understood
Only through the specific actions of having experienced them,
Each aspect colored its own shade of remembrance.
And it is in this that I become so wrapped up.
I cannot stop it.
I cannot fight it.
For it does not just control me;
It has become me.
And as I've walked for miles wandering amongst these colors
And these hues envelope my vision,
I am again confronted with the truth.
My toes feel the sand of the sea floor,
And I realize I've again let what lies ahead
Slip through my fingers.
Only to be dragged down once more.