We now are almost ready to begin.
This is the place it starts, beginning here.
We find these places and we create times
From those we take with us as memories.

We cannot shape these moments held so tight
Into a final form until we know
The shapes they should always then take before
It is too late, and all our open hands

Are left bereft and empty once again.
We build the monuments around these places,
Remembering the past mistakes we made
And taking moments from those times before

To turn them all to history for us
To each remember, but we do not learn.
The past and our mistakes all haunt our nights,
Perhaps too much for our remembering.

Believing in the possibility
Of some perfection, imperfection taunts
With its inevitability. Still,
We learn, but only slowly through mistakes.

Forgetting far too easily, we need
These things, reminding us all to forgive.


Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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