It hits me like a hot spark,
a burning singe from the orange flame;
that's life, I gasp, and yet nothing changed.

Like a fever chill, sweat beading at the brow,
I remember how it once was,
only to repeat through whispers of the wind.

Here we go again, another thought,
skipping across the lake like a smooth rock,
but just so, it sinks to the bottom,
with a final sound: *Plop!

Film and television cameras:
Roving eyes for many of us.
But are We the cameras on the world
For an audience somewhere out there
Beyond the stars?

Our world: a studio for countless films.
The animal race a production crew
For programmes watched by spirit beings.

And who collects these reels of Life?
Where is The Director?
What Company employs us all?

Those with feelings of Déjà vu do ask:
Which Take are we doing now?
And Minds of Science claim
We can Forward Fast or Rewind.

It’s one great mystery of course:
The longest journey of them all.
A soap opera to beat all others:
This film called “Life”.

Paul Butters

I believe in Déjà Vu
More than I believe in God.
A warning to myself
Of things to come
Seems more likely than anything else.

For after all, whom do we worship but ourselves
When we pray to a deity, aren't they what we want - Power?
When we worship the catwalk, isn't that all we want - Beauty?
When we laugh with someone, isn't that all we want - Goodness?

I ignore the church bells
I listen to the voices in my head
Telling me that
They saw this all coming
So they did.

It doesn't make things easier, but then
What does?
Déjà Vu.

For the briefest of moments,
a few shallow breaths,
a rolling shock of cold numbness creeps
as my gaze falls on the sleeping face next to me.
the short burst of amnesia leaves me adrift
untethered
as if I could slip off the edge of the world
a world and a self that seem for a moment, so unrecognizable
so wrong, I shake my head, I must have this wrong.
All is lost, it has always been lost, in that moment.
Then the warmth returns, and I see that it is my life laid out before me. I am no visitor here.
The haunting feeling that I have known this truth before. This eternal emptiness
lingers
just around the edges
the opposite of deja vu.

My whole **** life is a déjà vu

Yesterday, I could've sworn I'd lived the same moment
Maybe in a past life?

What if my "past life" is exactly the same as this one?

Then what?
Am I stuck?
Can I change anything?

Will I always have a sickening sense of vertigo when I see a 'new' face?

I've lived the new things, I've seen the new faces

Maybe I've been tossed into this life because I lived it wrong the first time

Something tells me I might just live it again