Ever since the inception of all things,
We have been a memory.
Just as a seed that grows into a flower,
It echoes of the flower that shed the seed.
As a cut finger heals,
Skin grows over the cut,
Yet how does it know to be skin?
Why not bone or nail?
How does the seed know to become a child?
In the womb, the brain is conceived,
The spine proceeds to blossom
and the body continues to grow,
All containing memories
Of whom the father is,
Of whom the mother is.
Within our genes,
Memory intuitively glows,
So you look like your father,
You act like your mother.
And like the humble particle of light,
That exists also as a wave,
Knowing how to get there
is but half the game.
Looking back, it knows,
whether to be particle or wave,
Being one or the other,
It is still the same.
In the memory of the light,
Its end is the start,
Knowing what to be,
Like a single cell
That is part of a beating heart.
Everything is memory,
Just knowing what to be;
It exists in eternity,
This memory of thee.
Sougen.
Sougen Songs 