Pages upon pages of notes
Scribbled at the speed of thought
As quickly as the mind can produce
The house sleeps, but he remains
Surrounded by the memories
In ink on lines.
Somewhere amidst these notes
Lies, perhaps, a clue
A shared idea, a mental glimpse
Into their wily ways
If you can't beat them
You might as well join them
So the saying goes.
Well, he did join them,
At least for a while.
He remembered forgetting
And he remembered forgetting,
So what did they remember?
And how much did they forget?
Insight hid somewhere
Somewhere under inked memories
Between ponderings of life
And of reverse birth.