Jargogled Impressions.

The nostalgia of innocence. I wonder where we left it off.

Did we know, like, when we left it behind?

Was it the years? Naah, that’s too material

Immaterial parts of it now we do remember

Sometimes such intense is the recall

You recoil at just the thought.

I would give anything to get it back

Though when I do, would I want to give it back?

Seldom do we understand the things that we want

When we do, its mostly on the deathbed

(Or on the bed if one is lucky indeed)

On that, if one’s mind does wonder

We like to think what we will think then

We like to believe the belief that

we would have the groovy

Understanding, satisfactory, dropping

eyelids that will say stories, churn moments

Of bygone attachments; that,

at the bat of it, recount reminiscences,

Content at the thought that one would be remembered

By the select few or the many millions one would ask

It’s the latter we aspire for, the former we value most

If not all.

If not all.

Why then, one would wonder

Why indeed one would ponder

Why what? The fool would venture

Why when? the innocent will whisper

In the din of the kingdom of the dark

As one shall fall one day or the other

Does one wonder if the things we seek

Sit besides ourselves, it does now as it did then

And as it will on that fateful day

But you would have to open your eyes to see

Or maybe, you would see it when you have closed it

For good.

For the collective good.

For the good of the mind

For the good of the body

For the good of your beloved

For the good of your foe

For someone’s good who is not you

Nor a shadow of yours

The shadow that reveals what there is to reveal

When the polyphonic tones of the many dresses

You wear cannot.