What A Strange Thing to Forget

What a strange thing, as a human, to forget.

If we ever needed definitive proof of our inconsequence
it is that we cannot remember what happened earlier in our lives,
that so much is lost to the mist.

We don’t seem troubled so much by this.

We relish the memories we have, embroidering them over time, adding significance
towards explaining what we think we are, for the moment, for the audience,
for the blank screen we see when looking at the sun
thus letting them erase what a moment deems mundane, Virginia Wolf’s cotton wool of UN-being.

This makes life a construction, an edifice
as shallow
as a poor glint or as slippery as coloured silk.

And, if it is such a construction then it will surely be deconstructed, completely and utterly, upon death. 

Dorian LaGuardia
2022