Abstraction: My Memory and Me
When I turn around to see who’s following me, it’s a blank space.
I expect to see me, a younger, more immature me.
I would recognize him his fallen posture and cynical frown.
He hated what he was and who he thought he had to be.
The truth of his whereabouts are much more obvious.
He’s dead.
He died a slow unceremonious death at the hands of me.
I didn’t know it at the time. How could I?
But day by day, as I began to submit to Love and Life, he began to starve.
His thoughts were no longer good enough. His beliefs exposed as lies.
And now, as I walk forward into my destiny, I know I’ve left him behind.
In the ground.
To rot.
Memories are the mark of something that once existed.
They are not prophets of the future.
Despite being a sword with two blades. The only power they have is the power I give them.
My memory reminds me of the me I once was, and long existed.
That man is dead.
And soon, his memory will fade.
Replaced by the man I’ve become, an heir to Kingdom,
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