I Lived A Life

They started in the night, neither dreams nor memories, but something simply remembered.
A flash of emotion, an image of a loved one, the face of a brother.
These images I have never seen yet remember so well
flash through my mind without any sense of reason for their exsistence.
I know their names, I know their faces,
I feel the love for the wife I see,
but it is and is not me that lived that life.
They exsist as mere fractions of time that stretch beyond the reaches of knowledge.
Each day I know more, but still I do not know why or how.

In the end does it really matter why or how?
They exsist and that is enough,
I remember the life of a stranger known as myself.
He lives a life, he loves a lover and he lived a life.

So why can't I get on with mine?


Chris Walker, 2009