Thoughts of an ancient heart.

Sometimes,
things pop into my head,
Things that I have done,
Things that I have said.
I wonder why they were,
What led me to that choice,
why all of a sudden,
I raised my gentle voice.
What was it that I saw,
I ask myself again,
Eyes firmly on the floor,
when you were a simple name.
Or was it in the words,
That fell upon my mind,
What was it that I heard,
to recognise my kind.
And if it wasn’t what I saw,
and it wasn’t what I heard,
Then what made me open up,
That broken, battered door.
So I think about it all,
What led me through the days,
What left me feeling muddled,
In an unknown haze.
And that’s when I see,
It wasn’t what I saw,
It wasn’t what you said,
It was the recognition,
of an ancient memory,
Deep inside my head.