Muted Memories

Each cell of my body can tell a story,

echoing from the distant night.

My blood has the heritage of knowledge,

passed onwards, like memories in flight.

If my atoms could speak

they would tell of my history,

surrounded in mute musings

yet remaining a mystery.

If my blood could talk

revealing which stars I came from,

what elements I have been

and where they have gone,

it would uncover the darkest path

exploring what occurs in the aftermath,

how the recycling of matter 

became that which is me,

and how my soul evolves 

and reaches eternity.

But yet, 

these cells remain dumb

and it’s only speculation

to which I succumb.

It is through my DNA, my genes,

I can discover who I belong to

and where I have been.

And on the map of history,

 ‘x’ marks the spot

but ‘Why?’ is my question,

and to this have I an answer?

I am what I am, and what I am not.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s