Of times past

It is, on occasion that I stop and think about the past. My past, more often than not, though history in itself is no less fascinating and evokes no weaker emotions than that applicable directly to myself and my existence.

Memories of times, instances in time and space which have gradually engraved themselves in my mind and whose effects have often left their mark on my psyche. Thoughts so dearly held to me for at time it seems possible to lose oneself in them and drift away into events past. At times, the beauty of re-living can be a brief scintillating moment of vivid emotion, of intense joy or defeating sadness. But entrancing nonetheless and reinforcing the continuous inference: regret nothing. One cannot.