Like a photograph periodically revisited,
a subtle sign
never before seen
appears only
when it is sought.
To others
it is invisible.
For memory is not
like a photograph.
Reflections upon memories
yield images
limited to what is perceived
necessary at the time.

We are the blind.
Perceiving only
what we have been educated
to hold important.

Denying the intuition.
Forsaking subjectivity.

We live on a mystery plane
made of lies.
made of memories.
we are all ghosts
of our own forgotten past.