Not even memory,
Of the good times is any replacement,
For real ectasy,
Or even pain, because the role of reminisince,
Is for comparison beyond all else,
For it's never done outside of the context,
Of the current state of the self,
And until you are fine with who you are,
There's no point in ever looking back,
For it will be for all of the wrong reasons,
And to focus on what you lack,
Which, to be alright,
You must look ahead,
Because that's where you will fulfill your dreams,
Rather than imagining a past, instead.
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