Memories
are more important the more we age,
We can
suppose it’s an indicator of the stage,
Where
nostalgia merits in putting to hand,
What we attest to God—our life’s
stand.
The longer
we live, the more we suppose,
The higher
the gift, anticipating a close,
Life is
limited more than it seemed,
Much more than we ever dared or
dreamed.
Memories
call us to regard our time,
In
capsules and fissures that don’t quite rhyme,
Troubled
but driven, resolute we strive,
This riddle of our time cannot be
denied.
Significance
of the moment, our existence laid bare,
When we
think on it we’re caused to solemnly stare,
Finiteness
to us may seem awkwardly true,
A fact we feel certain with which
shortly to rue.
Finally
the end beckons and we sense our chance,
Upon
heaven’s glow we’re compelled to dance,
Our lives
do not end here collapsed in our sins,
A life over yonder—that’s where it
begins.
What Do We Think Of Our Lives?
Nostalgia has a way of compelling
us to think about our past that’s relevant to both our present and future. It
strengthens our existence.
Memories call us to recount our being.
The further back our memories stretch, the harder it is to remember the detail,
and the more mysterious our lives seem. Did we really experience what we
experienced? We lament such relative amnesia. We would richly prefer to have
instant recall of those memories we’ve come to long since cherish. And even if
we didn’t cherish them, we still want access so we can learn, and therefore
reconnect with our essential selves and touch important persons. We yearn for inner
connection.
And memories speak powerfully into
our perceptions of what our lives have been, what they are, and what they’re
becoming.
This Life Is Limited – Eternity Is
Limitless
The older we get the more we
realise how relatively short life is. And in all of this reflection what’s
reinforced over and again is how imperfect life is. But this life isn’t all
there is.
Our limited lives, and the
limitations within life, should simply remind us there is something more, and
eternally perfect, waiting for us.
What is awkward and mysterious
about life here, with all its anxieties and fumbling and occasioned misery, is
being brought back under God in the eternal realm. There is peace. Totally
unlike this world; there is peace.
***
Memories give us a sense of our
lives, and they grow more significant the older we get. Memories are a gift, a
down payment, for the wonder to behold in eternity.
Death is a touchstone giving
meaning to life. She is the gateway into the eternal.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.
Great poem. Who wrote it?
ReplyDeleteI did, Graham. As a rule in my writing, all words are mine (from Above) except where cited. Thanks for your feedback.
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