Stood erect against the wall
up in the dusty attic of the universe,
is a repository holding amorphous images of the future.
How shall these malleable memories take shape
seeing that a single word, thought, voice
or deed have unbelievable potential
to create a reality reachable in fathomless ocean depths?
Using prior knowledge with a little luck
and courage as ingredients, they generate
a tomorrow into a today.
Memories of tomorrow are made in the cauldron.
They synthesize experiences of one's individual
life and circumstances.
A memory of tomorrow, although formless,
will always be nascent of today.
Whatever failures, whatever successes,
or of happiness or sorrow,
let the past serve as a backbone
to brighter possibilities.
I appreciate your comment very much, and I really like this poem. I like how you flowed with the title first. I'd also like ot explain that I write when I'm feeling something I dont quite understand, if that makes sense. I write usually when it is a bad feeling. I am not as horribly depressed as my poems reveal, lol. Thank youo for the awesome advice and have a great day! Kepp on writin!!