Some nights when I look at the moon, a part of me remembers a ‘before’.

Before this life.
Before this name.
Before this flesh.

I remember the speed of four legs.
Of teeth biting and tearing.
Of bonds deep worn..

And i wonder at a simpler time, but not an easier one.

A time of immediacy.
Of necessary survival.
Of what must be done.

Sometimes I look up at the moon and wonder if that ever was.

Or I am just mourning something that never existed for me.

Blood memory?
Or mind longing?

Does it even matter?

Do I care?