Fugue

An attempt to understand the ways in which memory severs, loses its material ties under the influence of private pathologies. Perhaps why the most intimate nostalgia cannot be ordinarily communicated.

Memory surrounds thy inert remains,
As wild vapour to still residues...
At the call of certain sense refrains,
To my fugue of lies and truths.
And wrests instead thy words unkempt,
Unwrit in the haze of known history;
Thus plague presence with old intent,
From an other you to an other me?
Else seeks the dead-end trails that crawl,
To the shadows of well-tempered ways;
By where all earthly gazes withdraw,
And airy blinds of dreams became!
Memory follows thy inert remains,
That scatter by summons outcast;
At the scorn of sure objects refrains,
To a fugue... of possible pasts.

Reviews

[Rosalie-O]

I feel nostalgia, memory and the feelings invoked by these are a poets strongest ammunition.Conveying our most intimate memories may be difficult but it shows up in our words the human we tend be. I don’t think memories ever sever, at least not without the obstruction of illness. They are important to our understanding of who we are and what made us become who we are.
Some deep introspection on display here, Swagato.

[Swagato Saha]

The illness, you speak of, is the human condition as such for me. As far as 'severance from matter' is concerned, I think it is but the logical continuation of Romanticism to our times - the more Nature opens up to investigations conducted within the hard sciences, the more we realise that concepts of Beauty and so on belong to the private domain of individuals. I think something similar takes place with memories - they cannot be situated among empirical objects, and as such is "all in our heads" in some sense.

Anyway, it's a nice question to have a conversation over and thank you for your review.

[Daz]

A very interesting perspective here. Good read.

[Swagato Saha]

Thank you.