The Reminisce

As I say goodbye to last of the distractions,
Wonders of nature or mind boggling attractions.
As I bid farewell to beautiful people, alcohol and money,
I do not know whether I am stepping in or out of reality.
I struggle to define real, I struggle to define me.
As the past grows stronger I barely see,
A spark that I once saw and did dwell upon.
A spark that is gone now and has failed us.
Us. As I think of us it all fails.
The distractions, attractions, people, money and alcohol,
Who were trying their honest best fail.
Its funny that even in distractions,
Lies some sort of codes that relate to you.
Excuses to reminisce.
I am told not to but there is a certain beauty in reminiscing.
I go there to collect some love and some pain.
Admire some and curse some,
Promise to keep some forever,
Promise never to visit some ever again,
Artist's re-imagination of history can be as colourful as rainbow,
Or as dark as a moon less night.
But its only imagination. It's only memories.
Yet your memories to me are like a treasure chest to a child.
Which he hides from others but secretly visits.
He might be afraid of darkness otherwise,
But to visit the chest he braves the darkest of nights.
Has no clue of the worth of it,
But knows its special. The value of this treasure exists only to him.
Child's play.
Then there is the growing up part. Pragmatism. Moving on.
You have to move over your hidden treasure chests.
Pretend they never existed. Chase real treasures.
But I already said, I struggle to define real.
Thus I reminisce.