History Poem by Anthony Dover

First memory was a dream,
Of houses,
Then fear and tendrils,
Of tension,
Then life rushing in,
Porous person,
Absorbing,
Then suddenly light,
Too terribe to stand,
Blinding yet benevolent,
Piercing every pore,
Opening the egg,
Wide Open Plains of desire,
Time vanishes,
And the universe unfold,
Then underwater and undone,
Suddenly groping for truth,
Which used to be obvious,
Then dying a million deaths,
And each day a little less love than before,
Then forgetfullness,
Then I took my place in history.