Remembering More
of being forgotten;
left behind,
without a protector,
unmemorable,
without definition.
This leaves me
in a constant
state of dis-ease
with the occasional
side of panic.
side of panic.
Will they leave?
Will they return?
Will I be remembered?
What’s that?
Egotism, you say?
Not quite.
And yet,
ego for certain,
as this narrative
is one of
as this narrative
is one of
my oldest stories.
An outer blue print
compressed upon
me since
the early days of
Space mountain
and Yellowstone,
that ever so proficiently
silences the voice of
my inner sanctuary.
that ever so proficiently
silences the voice of
my inner sanctuary.
If only I could
remember there
is more...
Hidden in clear sight
more.
Black matter
more.
Invisible holding
that cannot
and will not
forget me
more.
Capital "M" More.
If only I could
remember
the proven truth
of unconditional
wanting that envelopes
me each day
of my life
and there after.
If only I
could remember.
-Me
(Inspired by Kent Hoffman's "Eightysevenminutes" http://www.eightysevenminutes.com/)
(Inspired by Kent Hoffman's "Eightysevenminutes" http://www.eightysevenminutes.com/)
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