The past is mysterious
Sometimes as mysterious as the future

Hidden in it are old dreams
creased with edges of folding
dusty with old thoughts
and the remnants of desire

We know the future is blank
like a clean white sheet
yet we know it will be filled
we fill it with new dreams

Yet we forget how mysterious the past is
we forget that we’ve forgotten

it holds a special place for us
in mystery and majesty

these moments
that vanish right away
to be retold inside our minds

tracing over lines of partial truth
and romantic illusion

but how dear they are
these phantoms of the past
joy and pain
lust and loneliness

the past as mysterious as what’s going to come
wrapped in a cloak of imagined truth