Wishes

I have not yet decided if memory exists
for the preservation of love
or if love exists
for the preservation of memory
or if both exist for the preservation of thought
or if every thing exists for
the destruction of every other thing

no matter

projection, burrowing into the future,
triangulation
of wishes,
how we each disappear, moment by moment,
into our nearest and dearest possibilities

ego, knowledge, limitation, loveliness,
ugliness, ennui, nobility, evil and all suspended

for the moment it takes for a moment to die
and where it goes then
into story, legend, or even
(or is it always) love, love as
a swaddled horde of atoms toddling toward
something, forward, unwinding the sheet
until the unwise hive is released
no wiser, no stupider,
only certainly more completely
a lamentation of bees

I have yet to decide,
but am happy sometimes
to have such an
unsettled mind