Memory lingers like a premonitory stake on the outset of the white matter. The white matter operates like flashbulbs preserving the stillness of life in our genetic code. Memory becomes the images rolling over it. Memory releases the data stream like home made movies that salt our mind with subjective information as each frame decays.
We are eternal in those moments. Briefly spaced out past the particles of dusty metals so impossibly small they move from brain to tree trunk without pause. And then, to us, eternity is a plot in the ground. We last longer in death than we do in life. Paper, hair, metallic knockouts, chemicals, bone; all of them corrode. And that little button of corrosion is the next leap into eternity.
by Hank Cherry
