Cogito ergo sum..

Jupiter and Mnemosyne (the Goddess of memories).

Cogito ergo sum ;

“I think, therefore I am”…

Can this be the sum of parts, the total the making of a man?

Cogito ergo sum..I think..therefore I am?

But what is it we think OF, that best explains WHO I am?

Better perhaps to say; Memoro ergo sum;

“I remember, therefore I am”.

For it is memories of a lived life that more maketh a man.

What are we without the sentiment of reminders,

That places rich colours on the canvas?

Like a watch-maker’s fidget wheels,

Turning, turning, turning..in sweeping tireless whorls.

Layer upon layer of the mechanics of a lived life,

Jewels and teeth and precious times..and yes..strife..always strife,

I cannot..will not deny to myself one treasured jot,

Take the worst with the best…I’ll take the bloody lot!

The unstoppable march of time doth come,

When the ferryman of The Styx calls to claim his alms,

I will welcome him to my house with a chant of psalms.

My command of such memories maketh me more of a man.

So . . .

Memoro ergo sum,

I remember, therefore I am…

The young courter.

I wonder if young boys court the girls,

Like we courted girls long ago,

I wonder if they too do wonder on the mystery,

That we pondered upon in those Summers that passed so slow.

Those days when I rode my pushbike past her front hedgerow,

With my shorts, brylcreme’d hair and ‘fair isle’ vest just to make a show.

When I rode my pushbike past Jean Beacham’s front hedgerow.

What I was seeking there, I then was not to know,

For a girl was as much a mystery to us as was the impulse to grow,

Which was the mystery would draw me to that front hedgerow,

And Jean would sometimes flirt to me from her front window,

So her younger sister could take aim – with ripe nectarines to throw,

Where I sat there on my pushbike at the low hedgerow.

Jean would laugh the kiss of the Summer hills,

And smile the moonlight of June,

She could mock me, shock me, and tease me..still I would return,

To ride my trusty treadly past her house forlorn..

But I wonder if the young boys court girls nowadays,

With such faithful concern?