The Garlands Go Bye

 

Entering into the dungeon of death.

Where memory no longer serves us.

 

All knowledge reduced to rubbish

Grasping for coherence.

 

Surrounded by the trappings of the life known

And the objects once considered essential

Now simply strewn about

Like their owners, searching for purpose and a reason to be

 

All of life behind us now

All potentialities realized or abandoned.

“I wish I had seen more of the United States”

Memories of childhood come forward with compassion.

As if saying “don’t strain dear, we’re still here”.

 

Everything in between a blur

 

This points again to the Self

All the rest is data.

Better to find the stream itself

To rest and carry us

When our mind and faculties drop away

Only it will remain.