Last week I learned that my father uttered – his last night on this our earth – ( and, of course , my composer’s ear was sadly not there – full fifteen years now have scampered past my stupid ears ) :
” The old order changeth , yielding place to the new…. ” was ( now fast dying ) Dad’s Tenneyson’s sonorous Arthurian gasp. What did mystill sonorous Dad mean ? He, the Old Catholic Irish I.R.A. son, reasoned or he reckoned as he writhed , rode, became beridden of this, his mortal coil ? – Mischievous to the end, eh, my Cold Father ? Or indeed about to pronounce your own , your-plus-God’s willed self-extinction ? And thus about to see and thereby be blinded by God ?
I am lost, love-lorned, Father faughed , parricidous now a-peeking at my 2015 and at my Winterreise.