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davidmerriman
Member

since 2003-04-30

Posts 123
Dallas, TX

0 posted 2006-08-01 02:47 AM

tell me what comes to your mind:

-----

From reading about the auto-associative function of the brain

The weaving of the world, I’ve read,
is the craft of association. Memories,
yarn stitched together with holes,
a blanket children poke their fingers through,
itchy and enveloping in the cold dark.

Memories,
places stitched together in time.
The places are part imagination.

I wonder sometimes if God is nothing
but the great memory of before being born.
I wonder if we can only imagine this memory,
but the imagination is so large
it sometimes swallow us, like a dream
dreamt too deeply, or a book that surprises us
with a poke to our soul.

I wonder if this memory, this pre-birth
oneness, is a truth needing to be imagined;
that truths impossible to remember
are merely difficult, like fussy children
needing to be put to bed. Sometimes
it requires a story, a trickle of events
to lead them slowly, slowly to sleep.
And the great story-tellers, they lead us too.
They are precious to us, and we immortalize them,
for they most of all fear death.

I think of Christ on the cross, not yet
the final hour, but weakening.
Long before he cried to God,
the festering of his heart began,
the pain slackening his tightness,
the easing of a will once clung
to the earth and eternal tapestry
of man’s existence now flapping
miserably. In solitude he is letting go
slowly into lightness.

Jesus never cursed at God; he merely questioned Him.
Thousands of small questions, holes in the fabric,
dwelling one last time on the imperfection
of all existence
before dwelling again
on its perfection
and dying into it; somehow,
we hope, in a memory all of us can reach.

brother stone
Junior Member

since 2006-01-25

Posts 28

1 posted 2006-08-02 09:38 AM

brother stone read this poem right after a sad one but it didn't make me sadder. it made me happy again, especially at the very end. i hope the person who wrote the sad poem will find this one like i did.

LeeJ
Member Patricius

since 2003-06-19

Posts 13296

2 posted 2006-08-02 09:48 AM

wonder sometimes if God is nothing
but the great memory of before being born.
I wonder if we can only imagine this memory,
but the imagination is so large
it sometimes swallow us, like a dream
dreamt too deeply, or a book that surprises us
with a poke to our soul.

I remember a great thickness, after being born, and missing it...while laying in my crib and growing...???? I wonder to...never-the-less, a marvelous litty ditty you've got going here...

I wonder if this memory, this pre-birth
oneness, is a truth needing to be imagined;
that truths impossible to remember
are merely difficult, like fussy children
needing to be put to bed. Sometimes
it requires a story, a trickle of events
to lead them slowly, slowly to sleep.
And the great story-tellers, they lead us too.
They are precious to us, and we immortalize them,
for they most of all fear death.

I'm thinkin its a truth, mixed with our reality...leading us each down the road of our own personal journey.

before dwelling again
on its perfection
and dying into it; somehow,
we hope, in a memory all of us can reach.
whoa...really some very deep stuff that certainly makes a lot of sense...

loved this...thank you

XOx Uriah xOX
Senior Member

since 2006-02-11

Posts 1403
Virginia

3 posted 2006-08-02 11:12 AM

My first memory is of ME looking at "me"...this "Larry" that I seem to be now. The "me" that I saw was fully grown...just as it appears today.
It floated in a great void, in a fetal position. I looked at "me" and said..."That will be me.
After that...the next earliest memories are of "me" as a baby.
I have remembered this even as an infant.
It was my first memory. My first thought.
It has been with me every moment of my "life".
I apologize for the rambling.
Wonderful write !!!!

davidmerriman
Member

since 2003-04-30

Posts 123
Dallas, TX

4 posted 2006-08-02 11:08 PM

thanks. because a glimpse of something communicated, i want to work on this.

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