The Poem I Wrote in a Library

I see my life

In tiny flashes

Bits of thought

From my past

But what is life

If not the result

The buildup

Of memories

The residual

Feelings

Stored for ages

Thoughts and

Understanding

Experience

Passed down

To the ages

To the whole of

Existence

As all life

Has done

Since life

Was life

All pieces

Of the jigsaw

Fit endlessly

Together

There is no

Specific picture

On the box

Just use some

Imagination

You will get

What you put in

You live the life

You choose

But although

I see my life

In bits of fire

Within my mind

Electric flashes

Take me back

To places past

And times far distant

And I am there

Transported by

Biology

To a frame of mind

A virtual space

Where all can be

Reality

But what is real

Is what you see

In your own mind

And I see mine

They intersect

But only as

Interactions

Of the mind

You in mine

I in yours

We are but parts

Acted out

In each other's dream

Of subjective

Reality

Where I am you

And you are me

And life is just

A memory

Of nothing.