Before I Entered Time There is Nothing

I am not blowing smoke
nor a posing sage,

it’s an honest consideration:

the universe may as well
not have been before;

“before”, as a  matter of fact,
was not, before I entered time

—how do I know this?

there’s not one memory
I can hang a word on
before I entered time
just void, white as the sheet
of this page before I keyed

the first line’s “I”

now I’m somewhere around
“there’s not one memory”

and by the time I get to “stop?”
will there be any words still
worth saying, any do still worth

as I take my leap from time
will there be anything more
than smoke of a doused fire
curling up, cycling
against gravity?

something lighter than air?

then will the music stop?
Jim Culleny