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 in
         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 unintelligable  trail, past wishes
         revived in ardor:
For, without  pain of the past, can
        there be possibility of  a future?

            
                                       -by
                          HAKIM H. KASSIM.
                           (d. March 25, 2024)