I crossed into the long-lost land of my youthful mind,
seeking a boon — missed amid youthful buffoonery,
or lodged within the machinery.
But I tripped into so many pits —
Sections of memory had sloughed off and fell away,
leaving a dim and dashed detritus of moments lived.
The present is such a narrow band
between the chasms of past and future,
and I fear I’ll need some mad magic to get me home.