On Making New

It is easy sometimes
To look back
To times past,
Always conveniently shrouded in memory,
Vague enough that you can tell your own story,
The one that makes you come out the hero,
And smile that knowing smile of Having Done Well
That knowing, hypocritical smile.

And this makes you forget,
Not just about what really happened
(You Haven’t Done Well),
But also to forget to look for new things, new times,
To give up the game of trying and failing and falling on your face,
Because really, it’s very hard and messy and why bother.

You shouldn’t. The smiling you, the contented you,
The you that doesn’t look to the future,
Is like the frog that was content to die in the milk,
And not the one who fought and fought
And turned it into cream.
The contented you
Will never make a new dream.


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