Hour Five (This one shows up on my profile before the end of the marathon but for some reason doesn’t show up on my activity feed. Is strange. Here is the screenshot of the original posting. Not sure what I fouled up on in posting the original)

Memories tucked into
my breast pocket
left and close to my heart-
they flutter like eyelids
just waking from slumber-
fractured images
play upon the screen of thought
a remembrance and tribute
to a life once lived
by previous lives-
the ancestors of self
that passed away
by the alchemical chemicals
and compounded experience
of former selves in prior chapters.
I reach out and touch a few
Grazing my fingertips over their edges
flipping through the pages of my life.
Some slip through fingers like ribbon
while others catch themselves upon
the thread of emotion
and slice I to my skin.
The salt of tears cleansing the wounds.
Some are moonlit passages
bathed in shadows
that circumvent the present-
I lift the camera lens of my eyes
and snap another memory
like my fingers
as I mosey along maintaining
a rhythm of observation.
I tuck it in with the rest
sealing and stamping the edges in
minding where I come from
and just how far I’ve gone.
A moment of self that passes
then folded into memory.