Origami

I watch a memory:
formed, existing, and unfolding.
Origami papers folded into shapes of life,
then unfolded again into its original, meaningless form.
Every memory begins somewhere:
of being utterly lost and joyfully found;
of hearts broken and blossoming love.
From afar I merely observe
a love story:
Two hearts sailing together
an endless journey of mutual exchange
the sea of affections.
Whispers they speak,
careful not to allow any intrusion
from those around.
Love – precious thing.
A part I once was;
apart I am now this memory.
This chamber once cradled
my fleeting emotions;
this place that was once spacious
enough to resound every argument fought
has changed into something
far from recognition.
The old replaced; the new in place,
it now holds the memories of new love
found by the one whom I once shared
this love.
Goodbyes were unheard and unsaid
in as much as hellos were.
It didn’t matter that farewells were forgotten;
the only constant is change.
All remains are scribbles of lines joint at some end
or purposely shaped in some manner,
placed side by side – forming words, sentences –
a tool of expression… of memory.
Origami papers folded into shapes of life
then unfolded again into its original, meaningless form,
revealing how imperfect a sheet of paper could be
once tainted with ink, meaning, and folds.
Such is memory.