Is it wistful nostalgia or but memory's retreat? To a more peaceful place of what used-to-be, So tells me: my mind for whom myselfly-deceit:
Calls the ecstasy of past love by my heart to thee, Euphoria of bliss of a time when hearts complete, Could then says He if by nay to I and aye to we, In eternal yet lustful hypnosis 'til drawn effete. Likewise the waves enslaved to hands of Moon, I, then, too enslaved to wistful nostalgia's wound. And may 'tis again be'st the trickery of memory's retreat.
Now, tells myself that again shall hearts rest in peace, Only to shatter in tomorrow's failures by cyclic calls, Nearing yet another hypnotic fate by which mind-cease, Leaves me again with but memories and nothing at all. Oh, why's treacherous tragedies of ghostly amity - Vowing to drive me to the inevitable state of insanity: Ends then the tale of cycling thoughts of what used-to-be.
A poem on "memory's retreat" - of how the mind resorts to cyclic thoughts of what had brought us to peace in the past - a feeling seemingly so true that we can not distinguish between wistful nostalgia or just an escape for peace.