And what of memory?
Is it with us for good or ill?
Do we face it in the day, or
Wait until night, when our
conscious defenses are down?
We are left with our old
unconscious to do its best to
hold back the fray,
and let us enjoy
Oh, we know the answer
We desire, the reasons for the
denial of sleep,
Was it the lack of clarity
submerged somewhere in imagined dreams
where we had completed our thoughts
when we had naught?
As though we were pristine in our
Self-appraisal, yearning for clarity,
Oh yes, clarity, a billy-bug staring us
In the face, clarity of will and mind,
As though into that lost jungle of mind
We might find ourselves stripped of
evasion and able to contemplate
true miscegenation of
No, this memory will not allow,
For good or ill we are
Just what we are: