Memory

Well met wise, old owl.
I suspect your memories, foul.
Yet you treasure them like they are jewels.
I Now realize trying to forget ourselves is for fools.
Our stories show who we are, and that is a great gift given us.
So why do we toil with the toiling of the world. Why so, do we fuss?

The memories of today end.
The memories of tomorrow begin.
Today we must fight the good old fight.
Tomorrow we must join and praise with our kin.
For each memory is a memory and that is very much alright.

Now old owl, what do you please?
Should I stay here and learn more from our God?
Or should I travel on in search of more great revelation?
Should I pull more of this worldly veil away? This fictional facade?