So many ways to forget times so wonderful, we squander memory most often on the hardest of times. We are select in our memories, the touch of old times brings wisdom to our present.

Our rich pastiche of life, where moments can feel like eternity. Where the dramatic second fills days and weeks of thoughts and feelings where moments face us square to real moments and events are burned into our inner being. Where we learn the touch of time, to the joy and sadness we can feel in everyday’s.

Everyday’s where our world turns and we accept as given the moments which pass by as quick as lightening and with little thunder to disturb our deep. Our deep nourished as each day passes in bliss and carefree moments. Where hard work feels like joy, where we miss nothing and occupation feels like love. Where we are complete in these present everyday days.

Our best of times slip through our fingers when we accept them as given. Our touch complete as each day is filled to our capacity, where work and play and connection are just so. Just so to living, without complication where times pass and moments tick by to hours and days are gone in the blink of an eye. Full and complete, we take delight in hard work and light hearts as our heads fall heavy to sleep and dreams are forgotten as we wake.

And when we take time to reflect we feel the good, we can recall in a heartbeat most of the highlights and be satisfied with days filled to our endeavour, we rest with easy mind when the world turns and we can feel our sleepy and relaxed minds ease into peaceful movement.

Touches of time, where deepest feelings are evoked, where joy is felt across the years, and sorrow cuts across eternity. We are strange we humans of our deep. So deep that memories can impact on every moment in our present as we recall the best and worst, where our underworld informs and keeps us safe as can be, yet never safe from memory.

We keep our tryst inside to navigate and make our world safe. And with our senses so complete we travel across our lifetime, gazing at our past, and history converts our recollections to guide our current moments. We learn to recognise our gentle trials, where we can move in torments way.

Torments as our dreams are never lost and nightmares flourish in a heartbeat, cold beads of memory trickle to a torrent when our peace is shattered by rough justice. Justice where our karma dictates we visit this universe of what we do we get right back. Our world will come around as payback grits our eyes. We pay our price in living, as living dictates its measure and makes good its promise to level us to all human kind.

Time touches deep, when love lost visits close and good sense makes non sense, and sober mind struggles with our deepest loss, of love. And love is knocking once again, so near and distant, for its gone and only human touch is felt in intellect, as reason makes us see our folly and lets go its withered form, and dread replaces harmony, we deck our current peace and rip our insides out on rocks as sharp as razors edge.

Loves lost to a distant time, come back to haunt our real time self, and kick us from our gentle touch to this ever present, present. As nerve is jangled and a tear is opened as head rushes full of pressured stocks of memories come tumbling free and make their presence felt. Our harsh gaze is slowed to seconds and frames to recollect the breaking of deep love. And broken torn fragments sear our nerves and make our blood run hot with turmoil never ended. And we know we might as well leave peace to sort itself, as our mind crashes into deepest woe and makes this day prolonged with agonised and grating shard to cut our memories in pieces.

Loves lost to distant time have no business in our present, for their love is lost to times gone and shattered proof resounds inside. There is no cure for this malady of heart, except time itself and forgiveness all around. Yet blackness keeps the visions clarity and offers torment to our inner beings eyes, where nothing closes our vison, so offers technicolor evidence to battered calamities.

We never let them go, for we need their remedy, to inform our ever present, present and make us move to safer moments. We need inform our inner being where we did like for like as not, we share the guilt as hot and grinding recollections make our complicit nature learn from living.

We cannot let them go. For if we do when time touches deep, our risk to endure the same or worse, inflict our superficial desires on those we meet, and make that torture work again.

We need not be so sad, as days are spent to help us see a better way of being. Where we have made a hell on earth for others we have known, we surely learn our lessons well and work to our good conscience guide or suffer for eternity, the blight of torments eye.

Forgive me, gored by forgiving me, there is that self inflicted wound in our deep as time touches this present day. We make our move to supplicate by our living and our wisdoms draft, of learning how to be.

Keep safe our loves and their hearts, and be aloof as near can be to offer nothing but time itself to heal those deepest cuts we give so tenderly, in love’s promise. And promise for this present, present, to be as one with who we are becoming, and share with careful generosity, what we agree to be our loving care. And careful with our love’s.

Don’t see my brave heart torn to ribbons, not broken by that cutting edge of forgetful care you lost as time has healed your view. Indeed if wisdoms gravitas has yet to touch, its not my offer here to make redemption work for you, for that is your journey to Elysium Fields, a passion in defence of nothing but your youth, defiance to the last and a Universe to live again.

Safe distance as that tempest rocks my world, and reminds me how to soften with a gentle caress across this ocean and let storms gather and pass with necessary force to make their impact felt on me, and reflect the man I have come to be.

My time touches deep inside, as my touch is gentler on this world and wisdom keeps informing how to be. So elemental in our being, to guide us to our path, making good our living in all respects, love rests in our deep.

Love, our brutal teacher is the art of life, forever gifted in our keener senses and leads to every base decent and back again. Redemption comes from how we live, or forgive our conduct shaming time, and lightens in our lovers eyes for the love we give today. We add our generosity to futures children in our sharing. And yet those lessons of our living will come again to render all as weakness makes our strength to come, and beneficiaries may never know our finest moments of neglect, that living hellish dread reserved one hopes, with exclusivity to our own memory. And sad is our touch where wilful mind dispenses roughness we know well to others innocent of our crimes. Wisdom helps us in our gift of love. Or we pay our price, for forgetting cannot be sustained inside. Our good conscience is our guide or perfidy will shatter inner peace and drive a wedge where time touches deep to show us our part in that history. Cast no stones across the oceans of this earth, and keep safe with good conscience touch, to our inner deep.

Before we rest at end of day, forgive and forgive, forgive everyone completely including ourselves. And when we wake with torments touch, keep on forgiving till forgiveness finds its way…