Sometime’s life’s so good you have to scream,
even if in pain, glorious pain.
Moments aren’t so fleeting as they seem,
oft repeating, back and back again.
Dreams appear to stitch it all together.
Years pass, unpredictable as weather.
Then one day it all makes sense,
seeming like coincidence.
Memories amass a psychic quilt.
All your past comes into focus,
faith or death or hocus-pocus.
There’s the map of time your life has built.