Forgetful, it makes us own

One day, we’ll bemoan

As time winds down

We have to return the crown

We aren’t sent to carry 

The past, as a sanctuary

Full of relics and assets

The seeds of all regrets

Remembering comes easy

When the mind isn’t busy

With an unnecessary load

That we refuse to unload

We’re forgetful of the presence

Within, there’s a rare essence

Which we hold, with empty hands

There are no ownership demands