Love Letter to my past,

I sit here watching the cursor blink in and out of sight on the computer screen. I'm in wonder as I watch it dance and race across the screen as I write things down. Its foot prints behind are the P's the S's the E's, its wake is the sentence and the paragraph. If only life were as easy to fill with knowledge and wisdom as it is the screen with words. Life takes on a Tango effect at times only I don't know who my dance partner is. Is it Calypso or Aries, is it Quan-Yen or Ganash; is my unknown person me or the elements? I have no clue, but I keep dancing. I think that if I were to stop dancing right now I would simply fall.... I keep harping about myself and my self pity but like Pooh Bear I keep hearing myself say "Think Think Think," and "Oh my wheres my honey pot?" Two statements that are so amazing in their own nature. One thinking... As a scorpio that seems to be all I do some times is think think think; about tomorrow about two weeks ago, about last night about the where and the what nots. And then I wonder "Where IS my honey pot?" Isn't there some reward some where for finding your lost mind, or lost life? Should we be able to walk over to a bank some where and with draw say 13 months of happiness or get a loan on bliss? I mean I have ages of happy memories, memories that should be stored and recorded some where that I can go.
Memory one,
Ages ago there was a ship at the far end of Belmont Point a neighborhood of Nome Alaska. It had at one time been a cargo ship and sat at an amazing angle on the beach side. (Nome has miles of beaches); in the cargo hold of the ship the floor matched the pitch of the ship as it sat in its dilapidated state. If you stood inside it in what was the middle of the floor an amazing sense of vertigo came over you. We children of Nome named it Dizzy ship, "which my cousin couldn't say as a child and called it Busy Ship." We would spend hours playing tag on the ship jumping from railings, running across planks. Some times we would bring a pick-nick type lunch and sit out in the meek sun of a Nome afternoon and watch the tides roll in and out. I was happy there years ago, some of these afternoons should be vacuum sealed for later use.
Does my self forgiveness live there, in that memory? Or in Memories like it? What about the memory of a miss guided firecracker and the tundra of north beach, or the plastic chain of candy canes I saw on a tree ounce when I was eleven or the Bomb Fire on East End Beach or Summer Camp out by Salmon River? I don't know if forgiveness is back there anywhere, I don't even know if its today or tomorrow. I do know that I should pay more attention to the dance steps of what ever partner I have in this Tornado of a Tango and forget about Yester-year and Tomorrow-land and just enjoy the musics beat.