Now the loss of time makes its presence felt.
Above the flattened surface of the world
Hours soon slip away, just wispy contrails.
With them will go memory. Some say Hell’s
Only memory and desire. They tell
Us true bliss is heaven’s forgetfulness,
Abandonment of self, falling full
In God forever: a present perfect.
It’s the loss of memory I regret
Much more than the fact my camera’s gone
With eleven hundred photos I took
During our week long trip up the Rhine.
They were to be my memory; for me
Digital neurons, archive positive
I had been there. I could tell. They could see
Who chose, and I would know, beauty lives.
Leave this yearning for “what was”!
It is all captured in the heart of God.
Surrender memory, mere comfort cold!
Begin the fall through the Singularity of Love!
November 20, 2012
For more from Peter Gallaher, check out his WordPress blog, "An Focal Beag Agus Bog" (Irish for: "A small Soft Word")