Losing It All

Strange
How some things
Are remembered by us
While others are tossed
Onto the scrapheap of time
Forgotten
As a temporary blip
In time.

Even though
We try desperately
To find
And hold onto them
Within the mental maze
Which we call
Our mind.

But they
Still slip through
Our “mental” fingers
Despite every trick
In the book
We might use.

Until
Nothing is left
Except
The here and now
Of everyday life.

As our end draws nigh
And nothing
Really matters
Then.