Thursday, September 12, 2013


Memory weaves unctuous remnants around the quadrangles of consciousness wherein streaks of thoughts, tempered by retrospection dishevel tufts of linearity. Intermeshed stripes of memory, with their oleaginous specks stud remembrance with intensity and depth. What was unintelligible becomes coherent, the implacable becomes fluid and flecked with causality emblems of experience transmute into moments of being and crystallize as reminiscence.

Yet the assortment of thoughts, threaded by concatenated mnemonics , never dissever irrevocably. They hang like pendants, in inchoate loops, under the awning of memory . Recollection imbues them with reason. Each thought is indivisible yet, in its essence, as an affirmation of human consciousness, indistinguishable from its kind. Memory creases fact , fills experience to the brim and spills over, in concussions of rapture, around cognition.

Recollection is unavailing unless retroactive. Memory notches its constituents and greaves them from being sullied by negation. Yet recollection is sprinkled with nostalgia, tufted with fondness and suffused with valediction. Sometimes the visitations are painful, dispersing being into arcs of nothingness. Under the canopy of self consciousness amorphous wisps of recollections float, either intoning carillons of joy or dirges of disillusion. Though self consciousness dapples recollection with strips of knowledge and makes of ephemeral, gossamer slivers, arabesques of knowledge and modes of being.

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