mixer of blatherings

Mine serendipitous fabric of self being -
unravelled.
and whence thou cometh Tailor of Life's Lessons?
shorn from bolts mightier than I?
None exists possessing such claim as that.
Cradled in my heart a dream as in my arms a babe:
my future, my past, my present
my hope and my demise.
My very own eyes gaze back at me,
Will watch me and learn -
Things that I wish, more that I abhor.
Unless so large a rift open fostering freedom from remembrance -
an independence -
A loneliness known by none for there are none at these far reaches.
Then changing direction - I towards the past; he towards his future
All the while, Father Time never ceases his ravaging march on both parties
I reach where my future was and is my present, and he reaches what was his past
a vapor, a memory, a dead unchanging land.
A land of familiarity every aspect scourered for meaning,
The past bequeaths all knowledge obtained presently upon review to the future hopes of this varacious soul.