Under my skull, my heaven firmament
is a world tree branching off
and that is me
Memories live there
in flashes of time
bounced at
from outside, here and there
lighting up to a memory
field, all sorts of things
in a fluent wave simultaneously
actively present, to muster
to be or not to be
a world of possibilities
all true for a second
or false and unnoticed
when the light extinguishes
and the flash of my knowing
hooks on to another memory