Lethe, Downstream

By L.A. Batzler 

After all, the memories must go somewhere
When the synapse-lightning flickers out
And all is dark and silent.
Souls cross Lethe,
Touch foot to the far shore,
Touch lips to the glass
And are relieved,
Maybe.

But physics tells us nothing is destroyed;
Mass and energy transform and merge
But nothing disappears.
And anyone will tell you memories
Are that: all energy or weighty mass
A lift or press: bright wings or stone or clay.

So do the faded waters cloud, or warm
Or is there singing loosed with every sip?

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Find the full poem at: http://edgemagazine.net/2012/01/lethe-downstream/