#poem, The Song of My Nostalgia

What is a memory if not a dream formed from the stones of life,

the distilled spirit of the will that pushes me forward and towards the summit,

towards the sun…

The sound that crosses my lips becomes the voice of my nostalgia,

the silence, rhythm, the beat is of my thoughts that try to find you…

But in darkness memories lose their hues, their shades, their meaning,

as their power to evoke the love that once raced down the highway of forever

has been lost to a nostalgia

that transforms each step I take,

and recreates each memory

with events that I can’t recall ever occurred.  

The words that my voice now carries are the bones of my nostalgia,

the skin has been ripped quite off in my quest to try to find you…

But in the summit light surrounds the weary traveller,

and on the clouds dance the colours, the hues, the shades

that were ripped from my nostalgia,

and they transform each thought that I now ponder upon,

and caress each memory with the gentle touch

of forgetfulness…

There’s nothing worse than nostalgia for something that never occurred…

C.2023, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 24 NOV 2023, Valencia, Spain

CHEERS