no memory

strange the days that capture me
i wander unthinking until i strike a wall
and then there is my reality
the weak force surmounting the unyeilding structure
however i do this it is remembered
and forgotten like all the times before
the memories are empty
they hold nothing of this moment
they haunt the wilds until i weaken and call them to me
what if and when and why now am i possessed
the truth has no memory
no fruit of the harvest
no ripening or flowers
only the dead and the gathering of mourners
for the passing never ends
and the wailing of the women grows wearisome