Epitome of the mind: Memory

I was inspired again by a wonderful poem named “Flanders Fields” by John McCrae. The form of the poem is a Rondeau, so here’s my own about memory:

In memory our life is cast;
Forever reaching from the past,
Until the soul, from heaven’s sky,
Unveils the fate that all must die
To dream, in sleep, of home at last.

We are the ships, tied sails at mast,
Whose days at sea so too have passed,
To wander oceans, where we lie,
In memory.

The forgotten, though life amassed,
Know well to say the end is vast
Like tears, so far away, we cry—
At heart, still close enough to try
To sculpt as if our life is cast
In memory.

In response to:
Epitome

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