Enticed by my own allegory
where old thoughts come to me in new costumes,
to fool me or to test me, I do not know.
I play the part, I am strong, I look at myself and I don't remember.
I know the memories, but I cannot remember them.
The pictures are like photos in someone else's album, familiar but not mine.
When we can't recall something our brain fills in the blank spaces.
There's no separating the real memories from the artificially created ones.
Running barefoot in the rain, desperate not to lose something already lost
Laughing over a silly invented game. Sharing.
Waking up and knowing everything is changed.
Falling to sleep hoping nothing ever changed.
Secrets. trading secrets. Being secrets.
But.
I am no longer that lonley acacia tree, waiting for the masai to come find me, to give me water and love.
I want the whole savannah. I want all the acacias and everything surrounding them. I want Serengeti.
Ironic, is it not?
All this time I thought it was just an allegory that I created.
I should know by now that metaphors are tricky things. They might entice you.
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