Sunday, January 17, 2010

Who Remembers For the Dead?

[ source ]

I can feel the forgetting. Fog of time. And I can feel how it all gets fixed in the memory. How it was. No questions. No doubt. From the sun to the fire down in the cave, what happened becomes a shadow on the wall. Hieroglyphic. Written in stone.

Distant now from everyone and everything that I once knew, I can feel the razors cutting it down. Tying it to the mast. Memory has no mercy. Take it all down to the root. Rarely is there any "we'll save what we can and cut away more later if we need to." And just like that. Gone.

I can still feel it all. In my mind, it is still out there, connected to me. Everyone has forgotten. No one remembers it except me. 

Sitting here in the middle of this Desert. Lone, not lonely. Morning fog shrouding the trees. Who remembers for the dead... these memories... these ghosts?