The Memories Of Old

 As I get older, I look back on my life..

I see through the portals, of tears and much strife.

Deep in a pit, of loneliness and pain..

I was not forgotten and did not go insane.

So many stories, of the paths called unknown.

So many creatures, that brought fright to my bone.

In my understanding, through the valley of shame..

The stones that were thrown, brought me to the Cross's frame.

Out in the deep, I stumbled and fell..

And oftentimes laid broken, as the midnight stars could tell.

It was there in the furnace, I was fashioned to be lead.

For the first and the last, was my bread to be fed.

The memories of old, are the thread on my coat.

As castles with floodlights, gathered to float.

Yesterday I slept, where wild boars roam..

Today I wake up, with Jesus as my home.