Sunday, August 25, 2013


Memory weaves in and out of consciousness, incandescing a remnant here, a mnemonic there. Memory draws out, distended with meaning and sinks back, satiated with content. Dapples of reminiscences congeal, a string of evocations conglomerate, causality interlinks inchoate, floating arabesques of significations and thus memory comes to be. Slivers of the temporal concatenate, the architectonic of the past is crystallized and the gossamer intimations of recollections reconstitute into structures of cognition and reason prevails over the hues of memory, illumining and rendering pellucid much that was hitherto unperceived by consciousness.

As the wave ebbs and flow leaving behind sedimented detritus, which, suffused with mobility of their own, dissolve and burgeon, so does consciousness, circumambulating to and fro, extracts and conjoins, severs and solders indeterminate hieroglyphs of perception. Thoughts flow hither and thither, memory juts out a filament, holding it up for inspection and then submerges that stipple, substituting the void left in its wake by another memory.

Memory is interleaved to consciousness as mind to body. Specks of memory leave behind oleaginous streaks in the mind, lubricious and pulsating with life. At times, in the penumbra of mortality, obliteration of things is dwelt on, valedictorily yet importunately. The cornucopia of human life peregrinates the mind and is irradiated by memory. Memory's unbidden intimations bear the imprint of human existence, it's iridescent joys and tenebrous finalities. Memory breathes life into being. Memory is life.

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