Memory is invisible, yet it is vivid
It is of a past, yet it is ever present
It has no violence, yet it forces itself
It has no wheels, yet it transports one
It has no life, yet it is animated in recall
It has no future, yet continuity rests on it
It has no chains, yet no future is free of it

It is said that the only reality is now
Then, when is memory created if not in this moment?
Is memory then an aspect of the life force—
the other side of experience?
Is the encoding of life’s process to feed on itself 
Essential to the emergence of the next?

Perhaps it is just human folly
To seek light and distance from shadow,
Preferring the moment-um but not the memory
Splitting the experience from its imprint
A fragmentation at the source—
The instigator of misery 
Till memory is reclaimed, returned to that Unity 
And living is restored its Integrity.