All I've Lost

All my thoughts wither away as soon as they are borne. A contagion of thought is killed by the antidote of wistful thinking patterns. As the wind blows and deteriorates the sand dune ever so slightly so does my mind brush away the advent of thoughts. Images blur and the sounds of old voices distort and go mute. I can't recall long enough to feel the passion in my chest or the pain in shame. A double edged sword. To lose the basis of all feeling only to still feel regret in losing it all. Each failed grasp into the dark to pull a thread back into the light and tie it lovingly in a bow to my soul is met with failure. 

To fail at recalling a memory, a fleeting memory, is the worst torture. You feel it on the tip of your tongue, standing somewhere in the grove of your mind swaying as the wind blows. You fall apart as the fringes start to fray and the kindled flame starts to fade. Who are we without it? A hollow shell. A husk. An empty vessel. 

What can rekindle the flame? If noticed early enough, any  jolt from the powerful sense that is love can ignite it. In the failing I yearn for someone to enter and stoke the fire. To sweep away the old ash, that coats every corner and start anew. It's all I wish for, as the wishes start to fade from me.