A Hidden Universe
There is a hidden universe within my head,
Residing in the electronic pathways
Of my cerebrum.
This world contains the traces of days gone by,
Of people dead, places visited
It’s a store of things that no longer exist,
Distorted through time
Like an image in a mirror
Under the surface of a rippling brook,
Sometimes clear, sometimes hazy.
Memories revisited, unvisited and forgotten,
Waiting to be reawakened.
Incidents frozen in time,
Embellished, improved, recreated
A whole life is trapped in fragments,
A vision of the world
Containing all that exists of many things.
It’s a jumble of oddments,
Some special, some mundane,
Poorly arranged, poorly stored, frustratingly incomplete.
Occasionally a stimulus causes a forgotten moment to emerge,
Like a silvery fish from amongst the weeds,
Darting into clarity from the depths to surprise us.
Then it’s gone.
One day it will all be gone forever.
Inside my head, the whole of my life is recorded. Everything I’ve seen, heard and felt is laid down in a continuous tape, a chemical, electric phenomenon.
It’s a universe with a unique perspective. My view.
I find it miraculous to even begin to imagine this process.
My memory used to be sharp and clear – now it is hazy. So much forgotten.
They say that we rebuild our memories, remake them, change them, embellish hem. Often what we are remembering is the memory of a rebuil memory.
How I wish it was sharper.
I often wonder if it is the memories decaying or the process of remembering becoming less effective.
Age is a frustration.
I cannot remember people clearly, whole events are missing, most days have entirely vanished, yet some are as sharp as yesterday.
One day this whole universe will dissolve into oblivion.