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 togive-in,
       just to soften
  The unintelligent 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)