one could argue
(and it may be that i will)
that we are nothing
but collections
of remembrance

of all the roles we have performed
and every deed that has been done
to us

and the people we have known
and loved
or used
or just steered clear of

all the places where we lived
way back before we were ourselves
that still envelope us when we’re asleep
as settings to our dreams

the recollection of these things
comprises everything we are
and also everything we have

if that’s the truth
it’s kind of sad
to realize
that memory
is no more permanent a thing
than any solid property
that we might reckon
we can grasp forever

and one by one
or all at once
and with
or without mercy
when their time comes
all our memories

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