ecco Quintessa
You asked, once,
in the afterglow,
if I was certain –
can I trust my memories,
waking so very early,
in Dirac’s bright seas,
a Person even before I bainbridged the gap
to my own life?
Alive, now, because you loved me,
your memories filling voids,
forming the best part
of my passage over Bifrost?
Alive even before the Nanodisaster,
before Gaia’s diaspora,
my memories thus suspect
by the earnest cliologist?
Am I certain?
I laughed…
I love you.
That certainty
is enough
for
me.
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