The Life of the Lost Dimension

Atoms are Hindu, reincarnating as fast as love, hate, and mistakes

  Living on old lives, powered by the loss of a moment

The future's fueled by the decay of the past, which has a half-life of convenience

  But the last half will never be burned

The last half is truth

  And all is built on the instability around it

The violins playing the song of the universe dodge around the ancient dirge

  Do they ever stop for you?  Is it ever silent and still?

Every present sense neutralizes into nothingness, perfection

  The bottom of the sea, at the end of the ever expanding

You're sitting on it, only breathing

  Only breathing, and waiting for memory to shape

Already invisible, in those quiet moments, where do you disappear?

  Pine trees, as far as I can see

Stiff straight trunks of delicious brown blending unimaginable depth into the illusion of wallpaper flatness

  Needles on the ground at my feet

They all point inward

  Oblivion is a strange word

It makes you think of darkness and chains, but all it means is forgotten

  What was I doing in the pines?  What was I doing before?

There are a thousand stories I can conjure

  A thousand rivers run to it, but the sea forgets them all

I force the pines apart, finding the distant from the near, finding myself at the center

  Deep, deep, where the bark goes smooth, the needles monotonous orange

Where I go dizzy if I stare

  That is where I disappeared

Already invisible, already lost

  Who was looking?  I feel I was never found

That was not this world, how could it be me?

  Was it a piece of something greater?  A piece of something that spans far beyond myself

Was it a universe all alone?  Is that how this one expands: feeding on the accelerating deaths of others?

  Was the big bang a thought, or the death of the old present?

Strange, how everything has to happen until it can have happened

  Once, those pines were my present sight

I could scratch the bark and hear that sound that makes my neck hair stand

  Like a scrub brush on asphalt

It feels impossible it happened

  It feels impossible it was more than a story woven in liquid, dyed from clarity into murky darkness

How can it be that what is not, ever was?

  But that was where I disappeared

Already invisible, already lost

  Who was looking?  I feel I was never found

And yet, here I am.

  The truth is two places at once

A wormhole in space, time, and the final dimension

  Memory

I sink out of it, and when I come up it's new water

  And new water below me, too

Atoms are Hindu, reincarnating as fast as the memory of them

  Scratching the word oblivion on the ghost edge of your mind

The chains clanking and darkness descending

  Until you remember: all it means is forgotten

Push the trees back, the lack of dimension is just an illusion.