Time and Reminiscence

I've laid here for some time  
trying to locate an old wound.  
I cannot gauge its depth, nor  
trace the jagged edges of its corruption.  
Still, but for the sepsis and fever  
I would stand.    
   
The failing sight of this mind's eye    
holds out little hope for correction,  
little hope for ablation of the growing  
cataracts on my consciousness.    
   
But for the sepsis and fever    
I would kneel and pray for anamnesis,  
for the reassembly of these dusky shards  
of remembrance.    
   
I've laid here too trying to discern  
what un-remembered love and laughter  
may cling white-knuckled from this
blurry carousel of memory.    

I pray I may discover  
that wounds form the shorter spans  
of my history.