Friday, December 5, 2008

In Memory Of Henry Gustav Molaison

More Zen Than Zen

every day was new,

especially todays,
even tomorrows.

yesterdays were,
but then became
neither new, nor old,

simply vanishing,
leaving only the moment

where there was always
a first time for everything,

the walk in the woods,
the smell of an orange,
the face of a visitor

who came
again and again and again.

a lifetime of memories blown
like dandelion seeds to the wind,
one moment at a time.

living only in the now,
more Zen than Zen.

a lifetime of moments,
like millions of matches
lit one at a time in a hurricane.

the final sulphurous spark
extinguished along with a life
only we remember.

gone but not forgotten.

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