autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

Memory, mudita, and me

An old memory
Tattered and worn by touching
Still so beautiful

Kept in a small box
No longer set near the front
But well-known by heart

Everything changes
Just as it always should do
Free from attachment

I still enjoy it
The pristine warmth, soft glowing
Permeates my life

I remember well
Forgetting all but the best
The majority

Sometimes, a moment
Flash of today from afar
Circles in circles

It leaves me smiling
Pure happiness, mudita
Happy for your joy

I think of the box
How it contains beginnings
That set both our paths

Cause and effect, curled
Nestled in ribboned promise
Always, in all ways