the rebirth of memory
2018-10-02

***

a little girl collapses in the middle of a hallway
surrounded by black mirrors of all shapes and sizes
each one a different face, a person gone out of contact
herself forever escaped from her memory

for what do you weep, little child?
how long will you scream at the walls?
for what have you surrendered your right to your own head
and given your puppet strings to someone else to contort as they
please?

do you fear for the future?
do you wish you had the energy to fight for a better future?
or perhaps turn your back on industrial society
and blaze a path all for yourself?

she lifted her head
I cannot hear myself think
I cannot think of the words to say
I only know that I speak, not to be heard
but to know that someone is listening

but it is not worth anything if nobody is listening

a long time ago, I had a premonition of an event
that I dubbed "the death of memory"
a catastrophic event where I would essentially die
and a great deal of things important to me would suddenly perish
and I would be reborn
unrecognizable
scorned
but ultimately free

I once thought it would be when I moved
roots violently ripped out of the ground and transplanted elsewhere
almost all my friends gone in the blink of an eye
never to be heard from again
but it has been almost two years
and I feel more trapped than ever

so what if I was reincarnated?
so what if we knew each other in a past life?
it is not my life's purpose to mindlessly click on things
it is not my life's purpose to slave away for a corporate machine's
wealth
it is not my life's purpose to give someone else the keys to my
happiness
and the keys to my fate

it is not my life's purpose to scream at the walls
and expect anything other than an echo to call

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander