-Memories like fallen ash, fade the ideas
we create of the life we lived. Nothing is real,
every illusion an abstraction. Some creation
of the imagination. Every point is then a moment
of genesis. Life in its many colored panes
represents nothing that is fixed. Everything.
Waking, each, until there is no more consciousness
is the genesis of breath and life; memory
is where the imagination plays, and revisions
visions. Propounding wandering of wonderings,
as the dust, like fallen ash, dances in the waking
breath of creation, imagination and abstraction.