everything's just a mem'ry
powdered in the stars
twisted in the trails of lost and scattered view, of bias
found unfounded,
among the fading hues of midnight blanket
settle into comfortable falsity - bidden quick to come:
the mind's a-making to which we readily succumb
everything's just
a mem'ry to hold in perspectival recompense
fair or beauty to thine eyes may later be recalled with salty lament
o mem'ry, that fallible necessity
on which histories and nations
and lastly - or firstly - men are built and bolstered
therein lies the question, each of us petrified to find - is it
the "just" to be concerned, or is there yet
a more?
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