A Ghost Of My Own Memory

They told me it’s black or it is white.
They told me it’s here or there, always.
They told me I have only these two options.
But as a ghost haunting my own memories, I realized nothing ever changed when I listened to them. In the alleys of my memories I discovered, when they told me to either walk or crawl, I had to fly to get where I was going. In the halls of my memory, I stood there, confronted by some of the many me(s) they asked me to look up, that I have hung my head too low for too long a time. They told me to look up and away from confinement into a sea of overlapping possibilities. I was reminded to draw a lesson from emptiness and it’s accommodation for everything. I was reminded that nothing new is ever made by confining to what already is. While haunting the halls of my memories, I realized that this a song that hasn’t been played before, a story that hasn’t been told before. In there I made a commitment to let these colors of me flow endless. This is new, this is me!

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