A Room Called Remember

I was given an excerpt from a book a few years ago. I don't know the name of the book or who wrote it (I'll find out, though). Here is an excerpt from that excerpt.

"There is no telling what trivial thing may do it, and then suddenly there it all is - something that happened to us once - and it is there not just as a picture on the wall to stand back from and gaze at but as a reality we are so much a part of still and that is still so much a part of us that we feel something close to its original intensity and freshness what it felt like, say, to fall in love at the age of sixteen, or to smell the smells and hear the sounds of a house that has long since disappeared, or to laugh till the tears ran down our cheeks with somebody who died more years ago than we can easily count or for whom, in every way that matters, we might as well have died years ago ourselves. Old failures, old hurts. Times to beautiful to tell or too terrible... The room called Remember, on the other hand, is a room where all emotions are caught up in and transcended by an extraordinary sense of well-being."

I was inspired as I re-read this this morning to take a step towards completing one of my 101 in 1001. #49: Write 10 poems. .::Here's attempt #1::.

A Room Called Remember

Here do I enter
To a room called Remember
Where the Past, once laid ember
Is Present

Though I thought that the Past
And all things that have passed
Were not meant to last
as they went

Here it is clear
That these things much less near
Old love lost, pain, joy, fear
Are not gone

Lost lessons let lapse
At the snap of synapse
Are as close as, hear Taps
See the dawn

Not for the sake
Of re-living the ache
Of re-feeling the quake
But to learn

He was there all along
In the silence and song
When the world all went wrong
As I yearned