Dangerous Regression

Sometimes I visit the past, long ago, perilous

and suspicious a world.

The road I take has been built entirely by me,   

in very hard a way no one at least dreams of.

Rough a path and full of so many deviations,

that even I, well used to, I go so timorous.  

Now, it is clear there were no other choices,

for only this way would lead me where I am.  

Where and what I must be ever since I was.

In this visit, I see friends, lovers, enemies,

grandfathers and cousins, see also myself.

Then, undoubted alive, they talk to me,   

ask for news and soon we are laughing,  

like old comrades absent for so long. 

On leaving, someone tries to follow me,

but I go home alone.

I suspect that past is jealous of its deeds,

and always hides how has weaved them.   

I think we must go there as few times

as we are capable of.

(Written on March 26,2016)