Cleave

To suffer ones death and be reborn is not easy.


to find those things
those things that linger there
still


time lost in histories
to live fully in this world
then banishment complete
left only for mice to read



memory's fascist face
narratives of the child persist
when stories stumble


things turn up telling me
write about me
tell this idea of myself


enlightenment
our mind remembers
a realm of wonderful
and feels the radiance of untruths


i have thieved everything away from you
the grandeur of this life lived
those we need to know most
we know least
all what remains is what was
its pregnant absence