I sit on a hill of memories
A melange of fantasy and fact
On the cusp of understanding
Contemplating the moment
That had gone just before
Again the same
Always the same
Experiences coloring what is now
There for a flash
And then gone again
Replaced by the deluge
Mind dancing like fat in a pan
But between the frenzy
Of oscillating atoms
There is nothing
Zero the greater number
Than the infinity I stare into fleetingly
Perceived through the chemical soup
And not seen again
Until I stop searching for meaning
As if finding purpose is
Not just another distraction
From the nothingness
Covered over with insufficient confidence
In this fleeting moment
Random synapses growing fainter
Exhale