It’s raining here, but my mind is
crystal clear and I am sharp,
looking glass smart,
I see, record, remember.

1, 270,564 neurons fire simultaneously
each one a rocket ship that arcs through me
and into my memory.

I resound with the sound of the echoes all around the
falling of the drops and as it starts it just as suddenly stops.

In my eyes which become cameras catching images, making more memories are the galaxies and behind each retina a patina put there by age.

It’s raining and then it’s not and the memory is what I’ve got for a Summer day, hot out on the clay, just a reminder that behind a curtain of dust and decay is where we all will lay one day.

Uncertainty is death for me and
ignorance gives no peace,
I release internal chemicals
firing on all particles
and sign my name in
the articles
of faith.

And if faith is all we are to be
shot by a random shooting star
we might as well retire
and let the neurons fire

© 2016, John Smallshaw.