Each time we remember we are remembering the last time we remembered the event. The memory is then just the shadow of the event, told and retold, flickers on the cave wall.
Shadows on the Wall
I once saw a man with eyes
far bigger than his hands could hold.
he sat in his darkened room,
the blinds drawn.
Lord of all he surveyed.
He told stories of long dead forests
and great voyages,
of the people he had met.
(Shadows on the wall,
jumps and flickers of firelight)
One day I went to visit him again
eager for his latest adventure.
His blind were up
the windows wide and fresh.
There will be no new stories.