Grasping at the Past

When we are children the world stretches before us

Time seems infinite

Experiences repeatable indefinitely

What is there shall always be there

Even though we are told the truth

Shown it in every form that life is finite

We cannot understand how that can be

When we, in our youth, feel invincible

As I’ve grown older more and more I feel a pull

Time wrenching from me the best moments of my life

Moments I sometimes foolishly try to recreate

Leaving only empty echoes of memories

Memories that I cannot hope to live up to

By their simple recall they grow fonder

Tinted rose colored by nostalgia

So every new moment I spend

Grasping for what was

For a life irreparably changed

Desperately trying to learn, to grow

Break free from the constraints of what used to be

Longing for what can never be again

While also understanding I have to move forward

Knowing that there is no sense to these changes

But that I must still sort it out

Put it in its place, color it with my emotions

Understand who I am in its context and be that man

Moving forward while dragging behind the past

Unable to let go of the best times

For what might still be better times

Clouded by anxiety of what could be

Feeling my mortality closing in on me

Watching my children slip away as they age and grow beyond me

Knowing that every time they rush to me arms outstretched

Screaming with joy “Daddy”

That this could be the last time

Knowing eventually it will be

Because they too must grow and change

Their childhoods snatched from them by time

Change is immutable and real

Unmovable and cruel in its desire to move us beyond

To destroy what we know and love

And in that movement to constantly remake us

To grow, to change

All while grasping at a past

That we shall never experience again

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