"A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. [...] whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life."
-Ray Bradbury, "The Fog Horn"
how can so much be contained in a sound?
ten seconds of a song long forgotten,
bringing with it not just a melody,
but a menagerie of memories.
tied inextricably to that brief, happy autumn.
how does a song reminding me of
that brief, happy autumn
evoke not feelings of warm nostalgia,
but a sharp, stinging pain?
the presence of that autumn
a phantom limb; gone, but still felt--
all the more harshly for its absence.
each track of this album I loved
brings only more lonely thoughts.
no longer can I listen to the songs
without also listening to the last conversation we had
the one where everything finally broke
for the last time.
and I knew, this time, it was really over.
If this is how it's going to be now,
No song from the last two years
Untainted by memories of strained, pained
Conversations-- and the lack thereof--
I don't think I want to hear anymore.
