Descent Poem by Jan Sand

At night, in the field of darkness
Where an old mind tosses bright memories
Like an emperor=s entourage flinging flower petals,
The currents of nostalgia move and swirl
In eddies in the corners of the room.
Images scatter and coalesce, divide and multiply,
Flowing down to cold depths and welling up again
With forgotten prizes that fascinate and overwhelm
And wash away the sense of now
To drown all consciousness to sleep