The rain dropped a memory

The rain dropped a memory today.

Wet and clear, it relieved me of my doubts

and, without knowing,

allowed me to see the spaces in-between my sorrow

with more accuracy.

It was unexpected, but not without gratitude,

as I had already begun to leave some,

(Admittedly only a small amount:

as time ripples expectations and circumstances),

of my heart behind in the past

finding it not so much unbearable,

as irrelevant and not needed any more.

I could make a simile here, explaining that it was

‘like a…’, ‘as if it were a…’ but that would be trite

and that is the one thing that memory is not.

Which didn’t so much surprise me, as disappoint.

For, isn’t Memory meant to increase expectation?

relive the devastation of event and,

well,

justify occurrence without the need of evidence?

As created myth, it is legendary in falsehood

and deviance,

 (oral tradition being a case in point),

having no bearing on anyone, save me; yet

I feel that I am beholden to others.

It is their understanding of events

 that drive my own, casting hooks of doubt

into the waters of my mind, muddying up

my understanding and destroying my point of view,

replacing it,

shaping it,

erasing it,

until there is – essentially –

no more than an echo of reality

within the black waters of my mind.

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