I Was There

Oh yes, of course there is that facet
of the living soul which captures memory 
and there it safely resides deep within,
on occasion to surface and fondly
the mind turns it gently over and
around to recall and to ponder, as
a priceless artifact of life well lived. 
This is how we savour what we have 
experienced, the sweet recall of priceless 
events throughout our days numbered 
in years and as precious as love. As it 
happens, I have also invested in another 
memory bank daily recording impressions, 
thoughts, connections and events, most 
trivial yet some of great personal meaning.
Each is dated to link event with recall
and while the memories resting deep
seated within my brain are chosen for
their significance they resurface
randomly seemingly of their own
volition, a subconscious phenomenon
whereas those written deliberately as
mementos of life experienced are
entirely conscious, lending themselves
to curious scrutiny whenever the mood
takes. My mind, a magnificent creation
of nature's design, packs a voluminous
library of memory within an amazingly
minute space in a brain busy with an
astonishingly wide variety of applications.
Whereas the bound books I have written
within are so numerous a collection over
time they comprise a library of large
dimension of their very own. One a
compendium of emotion, sight, smell and
touch retained impulsively to live as long
as my corporeal being does, the other a
deliberate collection of thought compulsively
saved as an imperishable proof of existence.