Though he can't walk, he still wanders through the corridors of his memory. Peering through his framed lenses, he waits for the image focus.

A monument,
So resplendent!
The gleam of
That light ,white
brick, casting the
grainy shine
of a castle.

These bricks were laid, by family brought together
immersed in the collective, tangible suffering of the world.
Family brought together
by truth.  The human condition.

In a way it was beautiful,
mimicking the opening of a nightly
flower to the star’s light.

In a way it was sad
like the task of Sisyphus,
marching ever up the hill so hard.
  
However it came about, it forced a channel
of inspiring wisdom. As if intelligence dragged
it’s finger through the sand to create empty space
for the effervescence, paths for thoughts and reactions.

Life evolved, layering the infrastructure of free will,
driving it forth like an enraged charioteer, bouncing back and forth
between dissonant realization cacophonic syncopation
Trying absurdly to find the resonant tones.

The rest of the memory
Lucid now,
As if the dirt dropped so violently into my cup of water
Finally settled.

The memory stands propped, on the hobbled thing I call my mind.

We became vehement paradox
Warring day and night

as if we were a polar pair of docs.
We recklessly constructed infection

and remedy that we might
Try so sublimely to cleanse the setting horizon

of mosaic shadow mask grins,
clouds masking the task.

ending with such a blast, as wide as
the gaping maw of the endless

known only as desire.

These dusty eyelids watched the horizon lose it's light
and in perfect harmony become blind
to it's shadow. Remembering softly was my duty.

Dreaming was always a taste of what they call the little death.
Now that I have remembered, death whispers to me.

Beckoning as if an old friend, seeping through like
the floral aroma  good coffee.