the burning never ends

warmth like fire is best enjoyed from a distance, not becoming accustomed to its nature unduly. for even the smallest flame will burn if too close. the flame of awareness burns everything it touches, leaving only ash and memories. for me the memories are dimming and the ash is piling up. wives children lovers special times, places and people, all in the ashes of the past, there is no future for them and so for me. we live in the future according to what our past dictates, the good memories, avoidance of the bad, what creates that which we strive for? the past, there can be no striving without a memory of what and why that reminds me. its a blank wall with a few outlines. the future is a s hazy as the past, nowhere to go to be to accomplish.what was important is now some kind of unstuck sticky note that is laying on the kitchen floor, soon to be swept up and lost forever in the eternal garbage heap of past life. what future can there be, just the days emptiness and promise of unknowing to feel through like a blind man in an open field, trying to determine through clues where i am. the luck of the draw, the grace from above, the miracle of serendipity is all we have for inside its a wasteland, no one home, the ships rudderless and the sails seem slack in the stillness.i dont think theres much i can say but the words bring some cold comfort, they exist on this device as a reminder of who i was when i wrote them, act like electronic memories where real ones, if they can be called that, fail.