Throwback draft: An untitled poem

I was cleaning out my saved personal messages on Telegram and found this untitled poem. I wrote this on or around May 27th, 2016.

To walk a stranger on the path,
A path of former glory,
Filled with fearlessness,
And the structure of a cloud.
The path is the same.
The memories burn like a flame,
Reignited by repetition.
Strengthened by familiarity.
But it is not the same.
Once you were ingrained,
But no longer the same.
The difference is you.
Your own snapshots emerge,
Out of the dark room,
Into the light.
Side by side you can compare.
Colors blend,
Lines blur.
Faces merge,
Age shows.
From analog to digital,
The past stands before you.
Electrons absent from pocket,
Disconnected but immersed.
The classical poet's demise,
Never has appeared so clear.
Turning to cryptic meaning,
As it cannot be explained.
The sun sets on our histories,
But rises anew ahead in time.
Keep close your memories,
But remember one thing.
Do not let them consume your new world.

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