Can we have too much?

We once collected random memories
in a book, carefully maintained and
resting in a place known, always ready
to be seen, a gentle gift of the past

A picture was a miracle of yesterday,
a moment somehow found its way to
forever, in the pages of a book of all
the shades of life, the family gathered

Now we collect every moment, too easily,
stored away in a vague somewhere, never
to be opened by the hands of time and
curiosity, pasts that will never be touched