Bright is the portal of our memory,
Which like the sun lights up our life.
All the constellations are our friends
Without whom life would be intolerable,
And in that light of memory we bathe
Enhancing every passing day
Hope is the chariot, fire the brain
Journey is the story, engraved in colour
Sometimes penciled in, but always there;
Reminder of our world with whom we share,
Reflect upon the statue of our lives,
With pride and care, and long summer days
And longer winter nights,
Framed in poetry laughed to the sky
Lived to the end the very last shred
What if one day we cannot find the sun,
No inner light we wake to darkness
To an empty black world of nothing
Like the source of all things of all rivers,
Dried up like a blind man who cannot see,
We cannot shine the light into our memory
And see our world, which is now confused
A maze of shapeless dark,
Like the spider who sees not his web
But hangs upon a thread, not sure which way to go.
Lost on a highway to nowhere,
Like a shipwreck, nothing to hang on to,
Washed by time taken like the twilight
Entre chien et loup,
Without recalling what a dog looks like.