Parus et Prima

Parus: How can we match up our thoughts to this new thing of fancy? We must take a stand, lay claim to our land, grasp it firm and in this iron clasp never falter from its drive. This is a dawn of ill colour.

Prima: And from where this current of determination, brave Parus? Must you stab at the very core of recollection to be struck dumb by your own remembrance of what was? Or do you forget what chains and ropes you have pulled and what gears and springs you have set in motion, like mortals do?

Parus: Here is my hand, behold the silvery blade that makes its extension! What great bonds have I not cut with its filmy edge...Severed the roots of, oh, so many a strands of wasted desire. Yet to my own surprise, more than once I found the very same knife inching towards my throat, ready at a moments notice to throttle me in my sleep. What of that, dear Prima? How can this be, am I not godlike and drift in the flux of universal time?

Prima: Is this face not soft and these eyes not tender? Is this hand not fragrant and this hair not like the hyacinth? You stay your tongue...Then it is true. This being so, how can you even doubt that in the act of remembering youth, old age which is jealous and livid, would not want to slice it into slivers?

Parus: Enough of such questions...I grow tired of the ambiguity of interrogation, from your part at least. I am not vexed Prima. There is no surprise in such actions, only disappointment .

Prima: How come, my lord?

Parus: When you gaze into infinity long enough you come to some conclusions. And see that change is an essential magnet for life. The mind has this as the prima mobile of the galvanization of ideas and the internal electrical stream it generates. There is no eternity! We cannot say that something is eternal in the true sense of the word. For you see, if we accept time as a forward pushing line, past, present and perspective the very essence of universal eternity is canceled from even before conception. For something to be eternal it has to be outside time, thus not being eternal or not even being aware of its temporal powers. Given the boundaries of time, something can be perennial, at its hight...like us dear Prima.

Prima: So this is the elusive formula, time and change and recollection.

Parus: Indeed, and even as we fathom upon such dilemma we change, time bends itself around our metamorphoses and severed are the old bonds. Recollection is just the twist of the knife...