Life, in the mind's eye, is discrete
A series of moments
The ambition of a future yet to come
The certainty of a past already done
Points of reference, a counterpoint to transcience
A non-trivial accumulation of neurons pulsing memories
I am alive
Life, in the mind's eye, is discrete
Less authentic in the noise of memory
Most palpable in the in-between
The pregnant silence of loss
As the future at the tip of your tongue
Blinks in and out of existence
Like pouring sand through open fingers
And in those pin-prick sensations
I am alive
It is twilight and I am haunted
By the silence of your absence
The walls of the past throb
As I buckle under the tsunami of a voided future
And the grains of sand are muddied by rivulets of tears
Your violent emptiness rampages
In my solitary confinement
For in having lived then, I have died now.
