If you go back in time

the place will be different.

If you go back in space

the time will be wrong.


Yet, within our tiny cranium,

flashing memories

hurt and heal ;

traversing dimensions unknown.


wandering thoughts wonder

where those moments went.

All that was lived without –

is now felt within.


We are never truly alive.

Except, perhaps in reminiscence.

What is present then ? but just

a character plot for the future from the past ?


We are just slaves of

our minds, aren’t we ?

Or is that what it

wants me to think it is ?


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