Moments and revelations fade
And disappear in time and space,
The ideas of the universe are made
And lost when no memory is in place.
Perhaps one day, I hope,
Memories like these come back to me.
I doubt these creations would intentionally elope,
Not after they are known to be.
Tonight I placed a necklace with a charm called eternity on a notebook on my nightstand, in front of a photo of a Buddhist pagoda in Leverette. There it rested in two overlapping circles, one half to a half, perfect like a venn diagram.
Off I unbuckled my grandfather’s Waltham wristwatch and placed it there, in between the shaded realm, in symmetry with the photo and everything. There it rested on my nightstand for seconds, minutes, and hours, ticking it’s winding heart away.
My grandfather’s memory awoke in the watch as if interrupted or bumped out of thought. The same had happened with eternity. The lights eventually go off, and I would eventually fall asleep, but the two would be elsewhere.