Memory

Memory I am my memory. This piece of the world, this brief sprouting Amongst many thinking radishes, Exists only as resonances within Lacy neurons; Flanders’ delicate patterns Sustained by glial skeletons, Beyond the spider’s web or silent Snowflake in elegant complexity. I am memory: Identity, selfness, the compass of my person, Shaped by the universe’s unknowingness Of my reedlike form; yet I know I exist, And know of my fate, And of the fate of the universe, Which is the power of my memory And humankind’s collective memory. I am: And therefore recreated endlessly by my memories which, Shallow-like, bow to my insecurities Played out in my mind; ironically, Feeding my own undermining, Poignant recall of joy and bittersweet sorrow, Given force by visceral emotion, shaping “I” Anew, through endless rehearsal. I: Who is: only in relation to you, another, My child, parent, brother, sister, a lover, Bosom friend; like me, the sum Of memories, which we share And are thus part of each other, All one, yet separate, connected Through memory. The memories of you fade, Yet do not disappear, and Give truth to my thoughts On memory, and my identity; Me, whom you pursued until I caught you, and gave Me memories happy and sad, That shape me still.. with acknowledgements to Blaise Pascal, William Shakespeare, Rene Descartes, Eric Kandel, John Locke, the Lace makers of Belgium....and Georgia