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Plant not your heart on shifty memory isle,
As sanctuary, refuge and retreat,
Its ground must first be tilled for many a mile
Before the hungry soul can feed on it.
The soul, the seat of creativity
Does clamor for performance, deed and act,
And is not satisfied with memory
She knows full well that memory can defect.
Remembrance solely and memory
Go for some miles, but never far enough
But soul insists on actuality
She knows the deep tumultuous sea of love
“Do this in memory of me - Awake!
Go! - Do! - in memory of me!
But memory, - so fragile - did forsake
Two hours later at Gethsemane.
And memory it failed again that day
When two disciples towards Emmaus trod:
“How sad! - He was a social failure - Aye!”
The signs and works of wonder were forgot.
This unavailing fruitless memory,
Distraught and dull, or leaky like a sieve
Ought to be switched to turn actuality
So let it in the present modus live!
Do not be satisfied with memory,
Convert, translate, transfer, transform, transmute
Mere memories to actuality
And mission PRESENT for enduring good.
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