I remember a time,
You know,
Relishing in my own ignorance,
Knowing what I thought to know.
But now I remember,
A time found in losing myself,
Assuming and consuming what is not,
Every Moment,
To make these Memories.
I turn the page back to find a blank page,
Where Oblivion now resides,
Who came forth as I forgot,
Greeting myself as invited.
The past is what was,
The present is what is,
The future is what will be,
Or so I tell myself about Time’s Flow,
That decides the finger flips of every page,
Devoting itself to finding myself,
To know what I can never know.
I know now,
But I don’t remember,
A time I have finally found myself,
A page number of matter a moment not memory,
Where I greet Oblivion back in ignorance,
Relishing my own Reminiscence.