I woke from a dream,

a quiet nightmare, whereby my realities

spoke a loud in a visual menagerie

of pasts, present, presence of mind,

loss of time, and a strong desire to never repeat,

those aspects of a horrific realization.

 

Is the burden we carry with ourselves always so extreme?

 

Could a quiet reminder of a different time,

a place where family,

is a burden,

the origin of our ability to recall,

who we are, why we become, whom we would rather

call upon to be our stronger driving force of

an agony renamed,

an imagistic taunt, telling, showcasing,

yet relying upon the brutal

notion,

quickly lost in the blink of an eye …

 

Morning, and now I recall pieces,

only fragments of a memory,

one I’d like to pursue again,

perhaps,

not immediately,

but just suppose I do have a revelation,

then we might be able to count on,

fading dreams.