I can remember my yesterday. And most of the days
that preceded it. At least parts of those days. Either
the routine parts, or one’s that stood out as important
to remember. Those that I chose to.
Although, it is said, we forget nothing. Ever. It’s all
stored there somewhere.
But how do I really know if they weren’t just implanted there?
By someone/thing else?
Like an acorn that sends out roots, grows having many branches,
then creates more acorns?
Could they really be someone else’s memories, and not mine at all?
Or, something I read in a book. Or observed, but not by me,
with my eyes?
If there even were any yesterdays.
And if so, were they all mine?
I could have been someone else yesterday, and it is
her, if that is what I was then, memories I recall.
When I look in the mirror today, I actually was someone else
That’s a fact.
The me that was then, isn’t necessarily the me I am today,
or will be tomorrow.
Subtle changes from day to day, molding us differently, over-top the same core.
A new me. A new you. A new world. A new moon. A new dawn.
Everything new. Over it’s own distinct solitary core.
That, is what is tomorrow.