All these nuggets

From the distant past

That come rushing in

Like shrapnel from a blast,

But at times

A gentler trickle

Seeping in through random crevices –

No matter though, their flow

They are fickle,

Or at least, the lighter

Of them are;

Although,

The intense ones,

That evoke emotions

Often hard to bear,

Tend to linger,

Like dark storm clouds

Pregnant with moisture,

Awaiting the right moment

To cave in,

And inundate

Your sense of control,

Over your fate.

Image Credit: Photo by Marc Wieland on StockSnap