Seasons in the Sun

A past-life dream, a fantasy,

somehow it wasn't real.

While pictures, notes, prove otherwise,

the don't change the way I feel.

The memory's like a beacon,

that shines on through the night,

and while I know the fire will burn me,

I am still drawn to it's light.

Like a moth to a flame,

I am drawn inexorably near,

and though I struggle to resist it,

passion overwhelms my fear.

My vision of that lifetime,

gone by so long ago,

is clouded by the decades

in a nostalgic, fictional glow.

The contrast of my time abroad,

compared to that returned,

is so strongly etched inside my head,

it will take a lifetime to unlearn.

Malaysia's like a sibling,

one who passed away too young.

A brother or sister taken

when our lives had just begun.

I never took the time to mourn her,

it was a struggle to survive.

I simply let her memory fade away,

to painful, kept alive.

But now some twenty plus years later,

the feelings I had buried for so long,

and the issues I should have put to rest,

as a group, have come back strong.

I know, that now, I can't re-live

that lifetime long ago.

But that doesn't stop me crying

over seeds I'll never sow.

Only God knows why things happen.

Is this a blessing in disguise?

Because of old friends rediscovered,

to help with who's, what's, where's and why's.

B.Feeley (1997)

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