There are huge
places of forgetting –
not only in our lives,
but in the vast
fabric of all that
is – in the crenulations
of the universe herself.
A lingering knowledge
that we have more
to say; a pause to bring
forth something long ago
tucked away in the flash of
an instant, the passing
of the moment. These
black holes of human
consciousness stand in
their own depths
immeasurable and unfathomable
to that simple speck
of awareness – that
point in time and space
that knows it is a knowing.
How we threw the ball
on the front lawn, how we
played cards in the fort outback;
walking the streams in the
early morning mist looking
for furs to sell for cash –
these are the fragments
that flow in a backwash
from my soul.
But,
just beyond the river
of things remembered
are segments of a life
that fade out of view
into a black hole of
insurmountable size.
There is no longing that
calls them forth from the
depths of forgetting and
gives them to see
the light outside the pit
of frozen synapses.
I long to lay aside
the frustrated muscle of
searching through the
ebb and flow of all I
have known and known I know.
I beckon them to come
to me – to make a
singular showing so
I can turn the motor of
memory off; or, at least
let it idle melodically at
a low-grade hum
of steady remembrance.
There is no letting
go of the desire to tug
at impressions against the
constant, endless, relentless
pull of gravity.
This anomaly of the astronomy
of our lives may be a theorem
of probability, an equation
of the science of space and
time, but in my self
there is no doubt
about its elusive
placement, just outside
the limits of my
perception and ken.
O lonely movement
of discovery, give back to me
the things I know to have
known. O chasm of
neural
space and time, shake loose
the things that were my
meaning then – and give
me rest.
Release the wrenching
of this un-circumscribable
singularity against my ability to
hold tight the dear, lost
pieces of my me.
All that steadies
the who of who
I am – living into
the expansion of all
that it wrestles against
the apparent entropy
of this event horizon
of my own being.
image by www.spacetelescope.org
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