Storage Of Memories

A wakening breath, a hint of morning, absorbing mindless empty storage of memories. Winding amidst tall pines struck by lightening, ideas are being enkindled in flames. Zig-zagging turmoil, trudging through forests of thoughts, spread blanket thin, like dead leaves dying on the forest floor. Matching colors, designing patterns, fitting words together with understanding and meaning. Lengthy discourses noted throughout time in orderly fashion, solemnly continued, properly adapted, as night-time darkness descends on us in silent slumber.