"Footfalls echo in the memory, Down the passage which we did not take, Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden.”
This slave finds a wistfulness for both what was, as well as what was "not". What "was" went too soon. The seasons change,time slips by and with each passing year this one longs to hold onto summer's fleeting days, reminding me of youthful laughter and warmth and pleasure.
The freezing of those perfect moments when they graced us is sadly impossible, time marches on, no matter what, we can but try to hold in memory every second and allow it to fill our soul to sustain during the chill and darkness.
Slavery's moments change as do all moments. My wistfulness comes due to lack of understanding of the impermanence of time. The moment which mark this slave's soul and heart keeps me forever bound to my Master even when the mark is no longer present on the flesh.