Etched Memories

Etched Memories



I remember so many things. Some so vividly. Etchings of times past scratched into the fragile glass of my mind’s eye. Sometimes they shatter when tugged at. Leaving me with broken shards and pieces scattered in disarray among the higher levels of my consciousness. Only to fall, tumbling down much later as they come back to me in filtered form with only the smallest details attached.

I hold these tiny clear pieces of thought to the light of day and reveal their etchings. Sometimes the light plays tricks and you see things not as they are really etched, but as they appear to be in their broken state.

And still, there are those etchings that need only the occasional dusting.
Some with only the corners chipped and missing. They seem to stand the test of time. Their lines deeply engrained in the hard polished surface. And each time these recalled bits of time pass before the mind’s eye, the recollection burns those lines just ever so deeper like the tip of a diamond forever sealing it’s mark upon my world.

Yet, there are other memories too. Ones buried deep. Painted over in black ink to conceal their designs. Slid back under the steps of time where the light of the day refuses to shine. A piece of work you hope will never be revealed, as this work uses it’s exposed edge to cut and slice through to the strings of my emotions. Leaving the open ends raw and bleeding.

And then you must find yet another hiding place to stow away these painful, or scary, or embarrassing pieces of your past.

Funny how these memories seem to be made from a substance harder than glass, but just as clear.
Even the ink used to blot them sinks deep and solidifies into the depths of the porous material. So that as the years go by, the ink around the borders of these lines are washed or chipped away, but their deep dark grooves are like blood through the veins of time.

Fate’s Future