Will you remember me when days grow cold?
When dark clouds close in and the ground dies under foot,
When all the world falls into slumber and oneness,
Will I fade from your consciousness?
When I am gone will it hurt?
Will I cry when you no longer think of me, and I die?
To exist only as a thought in your head.....
Life dependent on your thinking.
Even a memory... at least then,
I would be recalled from time to time, resurrected.
I can't even be  a memory because I never was...
never really existed.
Just something you one day thought up.
I can only survive as long as you are thinking me,
and continue entertaining the thought of me.
You have no way to give birth to me.
No way to make me exist in the material world.
No way to make me solid.
I am no more then an electrical impulse
passed between the synapses in your brain.
When they stop firing me to and fro I will cease to exist.
What will become of me when you fizzle me out?
Will you simply reabsorb me into your cells?
Will I be cast out as waste?
I turn to face my fate, yet you keep thinking me.
Torturing me in a way, recalling me, adding to me,
making me bigger, longer, more intricate.
What price I'd pay for you to create me in reality.
Impossible, I know...
To be able to see you from the outside in, instead of inside out!
To know the you, you present to the world.
The strong, creative, mysterious, smart,
confident, emotional you. The quiet you.
Instead I know the inner you, the screaming,
raging, crying, laughing, manipulative,
intelligent, humorous you.
Would I think of you the same.....,
could you manifest me into reality?
Would you me......?
You would know me after all, you thought me,
you created me, you own me.
Breathe life into my veins.
You are me!
Can I become a memory... of a thought... you once created?

© Crystal Erickson 11/24/07

I imagine your mind, imagining mine,
as we imagine yours.

© Matthew Harlovic

I wonder,
and wonder,
Maybe so much I don't know what's going on,
It's as if I try and block,
Rather sit in silence than to talk,
Imagining,
Dreaming,
and wondering,
The thoughts about what I want,
Thoughts about how I want to serve,
Serve those around me,
The mark I want to leave on this Earth,
The person I want to be,
The things I wish I could free,
I may be small and young,
But I've got a plan to do good,
I know I haven't had that plan set out I know I should,
But I guess that's how it is and I wish it would,
I wish it would be a plan sought out the way I want,
Its like a fog,
Like those ones on a cold Monday morning,
Im in a haze,
More like a daze,
It's unclear of what is to come,
Maybe that's the beauty in it all,
Once you come closer and see the things you are confronted with,
You find out what to do,
Just if I knew
It's like a fog,
I am unaware of what may be in front of me
I guess thats what my life is meant to be,
That time will come when I set myself free.