This is what happens
      when your own
         past--
Twisting and turning
      with you at some
         midnight hour-
  Becomes you, all
      over again at once,
          all too fast,
Overlapping you,
       heart and soul,
          strenuous in
              power;
   Precious memories
          posted to
             unchartered
                future;
Each note of thought
      wearily clings, too
          often
  But a scene with
       yourself,
          demanding
             an answer,
Yet within past
       content, drifting
           you to
              give-in, just to
                soften
  The unintelligible
     trail, past wishes
        revived in ardor: For, without the pain
     of the past, can
        there be future?

            
                    -by
        Hakim H. Kassim.
      (d. March 25, 2024)