Souvenirs...

Creatures were caught and creatures were quashed,

Creature did fight and creatures did breathe,

Carved from glory, memories and grime.?

Creatures were them and now creatures are me...

Souvenirs. I collect them all, in forms of memorabilia, scrutiny, dreams and legends.

My memory bank applauds this noetic sense for carving great laurels borrowed from barks of retribution, forsaken and forbidden. I came against a thought once, where I stood tall and proud with nought but a quill in hand. It was my greatest sense of stability, my honour, my armour. For it is in my tall stance and travels that I collect these souvenirs, that will someday be a poignant murmur of my being but traces of me will sing tales of the enigma I once was. Those streets will whisper, in hushed tears of how I waltz through life with great laughter and inane gaiety.

How do I tell my grandkids what adventures I had? Will they be about setting sail across the ocean’s cerulean waves or inhaling cultures of worldly kinds? But I think I would sing them a song, a song that embraces the truth, all-encompassing and LIVED through a wholesome life, “Heavens were afoot with blueprints of multiple arenas, one was of brick and memories, where time stood still, my warmth, my home; the others of misadventures and triumphs and all the sights in the world. Both alive with glee, both bargained for me, both became a part of this life, and both alight with victories alike ????♂?

From reigning fire, amidst smiles of grated peace came the stories I wrote, the stories I rode.

For I once was a flicker, but now I rain ablaze.