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Ghosts in the Maze

Updated on October 17, 2017
Ghosts in the Maze
Ghosts in the Maze

Alzheimer's Prison

GHOSTS IN THE MAZE

Oh, the sadness that envelopes the soul captured mind, lost in the fleeting moments of memories regained. Lost in the maze of memory disconnect, these searching hearts stumble through confused corridors of faded lives, as a blind man gropes through the twists and turns of entangled city streets.

Yet the lost, ever sweet treasure of memories found, comes upon the awakened soul, as if by a ghost who happily returned to life. As vapors of mist come upon the parched face of a man lost in the desert, so the fragile mind of the fractured, drinks up the precious moments of memories regained.

Oh, for love's sake that it would be these resurrections from the dead that should last forever, and the soul should rest in those peaceful times of love's full measure.

Oh, that friends and lovers would, in faith and prayer, embrace these poor souls through yet another visit to the land of memories. Soothed by the warmth of love's gentle fire, if but only in their mind, let these souls be nourished by their memories, holding off their return to the prison of Alzheimer's Maze.

Oh, that we would pray their return to the maze be taken by the Hand of Mercy and led by Mind of Peace, as they are gently slipped back into their jumbled memories. Quietly, letting the ghosts of their past vanish into the shadows of their lost corridors of time, fading into solitude, driven into the maze of memories confused, let it not be that they sadly cry songs of sorrow or left anger's hand in darkness.

See now, the Architect of The Maze looks upon the Tears of Love, and in one swift moment, destroys His maze, Happily restoring the years of loss and suffering with the plenty of memories regained. Whole once more, brighter than before, alive with understanding and enriched by the revealing knowledge of God.

© 2017 Silva

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    • shanmarie profile image

      shanmarie 5 weeks ago

      Such a sad condition. My grandmother had some form of dementia, bit it was never formally diagnosed as Alzheimer's. It could have been another form, but from what I have learned through research for a novel, the symptoms I witnessed and heard about seem to fit. The thought scares me and I think about everytime something weird happens with my memory, like turning the oven on and forgetting to put my lunch in it the other day. But then I went to get the food out as if I had out it in there and apparently, I'd only thought about it. Having done a virtual dementia tour as well, I am aware that people are aware of the strange lapses in memory for quite a while before it gets too far along. Makes me wonder if those kinds of experiences are what these people experience on a normal basis.

      I like the ending thoughts of your poem.