The forgetful Years

Why must we watch our courtyard full of empty accomplishments
Break on impact from the height of prosperity?
Why must we be stuck viewing life as it
Corrodes over sculptures of what we were?
We are frozen in fractals of time.
We are forgotten.
Left to wander what was.
We are on top of life for moments at a time.
But beyond recall, we ask who and why we are.
Leaping from the tops of sin, we remember.
Landing on paved repentance, we forget.
And we are forgotten in the forgetful years of life.
These years show us our faults through an unremembered time.
Each of us holds close our individualized descriptor.
But as one, our epithet stands simply as "alive."
Yet, here, strewn across life's ways,
Do we live?
In these forgetful years, do we live?
Or do we forget, as we are forgotten?

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