A Record

The problem is,
If there is no record
It’s all lost.
The thoughts,
The rain,
Each drop becomes inaccessible,
The drive-by sound of a truck,
And again.
What is there to record?
Only time,
That leaves this moment
For the next,
For posterity.

I remember the hiccup,
Cigarette face down in the ash tray.
Without this, there is no foundation.
A course as unassuming
As the first coil of a spring.
Who could know the sequence of events
Which would follow.

Sleep, and a dream,
Putting down a glass of water,
And it all ends up here.
These are the things
That could change eternity.
A cause-
Effect
And nothing is changed.
But a language is built upon these points…
Endless, inferior.
As if all this empty space
Could be filled with anything.
That it would not make a difference.
These are the things that change the course of a life.
Imperceptible choices.
One step-
A lifetime.
Death.
Searching back.
Asking
Why?
Little is known
About the effect
Of such chance events
Only because
They
Are forgotten.