REMEMBER ME :
“Remember me ! ”
– that age/old cry, piteous, imperious, born out of terror , oblivion being our threat.
Remember me in tones, in bronze, in the name of a lousy street, or a tomb as a clarinet concerto, what else ?
Motor of art, as with death a motor of religion,of that which binds us.
I chisel it in , I write it on water or in the sky, all our
orchestral trumpets blazing.
Change the nib. Begin a new composition.
Oblivion will lap. Of course it will.
Stoics and Epicureans and our Buddha and all the Celtic saints of the Burren and great , even bad, indifferent workers in,
well, all the arts yell quietly those four syllables. So ” R ” and ” M ” and ” B ” enclose just two vowels…. Not bad.