Odd..
Sometimes there are times we know will pierce us to the marrow, will remain with us in details for the rest of our lives. Some of these times come to us in chilhood, others adolescence, sometimes there are none for years on end and then things begin to happen so quickly, these moments begin to pile up, one upon another, almost faster than we can assimillate them.
There have been literally years on end, when taking paper and pen and putting the fleeting streaks of perception into my history in a permanent fashion, has never crossed my mind. There have been times I've sat, willing the words to come so that expression would be exact, precise, and no Muse speaks. Those moments are left, the pity, to fade with time and age.
For they all do, almost.
But as we began, some stay with such clarity, such a presence of never stopped happening, that we will know them forever. Forever remembering the exact words, expressions, feelings, emotions, settings, conditions, even down to what we were wearing or what we held in our hands. We'll remember not only ourselves as we appeared, but those aroud us in the same detail, the same chrystaline purity of vision, sound..
These are the memories that confuse most, give comfort to some with their faith they understand them, and insight to even others, who can recall those times not once, but as often as the mind wills.
The details, the minutae, are what separate these recollections from others.
It can be disturbing.
And that, this being where I finally come to the point, is the reason for that above. There are those who claim to have many of these 'memories' from this life, from others, and those to whom I have been speaking over these past few weeks, have been..disturbed..anxious..
There's no definition to this piece..
It's more in the way of a caveat, and to what it refers, one cannot say.