Describing Finzi’s Eclogue

Once when we were alone at the kitchen table

shaking off self consciousness, I attempted

to describe the feelings spawned by listening

to my favourite piece of music, almost like

a football commentary. And somehow it

struck a chord with my companion, so much so

that he asked me to do it again some months later

and I declined, explaining that the moment had gone.

And I felt at the time I had let him down, and now

he is gone, I want to resurrect that moment,

but it never seems quite the same when I do it.

It starts with order, a gentle solitude in a measured

and unhurried way, with easy harmony and only

the hint of discord one would expect in life.

As we listen, the halcyon glow is invaded 

by a knowing foreboding, vaguely threatening

the idyllic tranquillity, but quickly dispelled at first,

and all is well. And forcibly so, showing the world

how well everything is. But we must have closed our eyes

and lost our way, because we seem to be searching

a dark place, an unfamiliar forest, although there is

a faint glimmer between the trees, distant and fleeting.

We begin to see the journey’s end although we are

warned of doubt and regret along the way as we

explore our feelings and sail through the air

above the hinterland, and seeing a hill; climbing;

the knowledge the prize, but the view on reaching

the top is not completely fulfilling and acceptance

is the only solution. Measured, simple, and in tune

and harmony with surroundings and no need to panic.

Even if the sky darkens. Patience will bring

the final resolution and end in complete clarity.

Synthesis of sound and mood.

Maintenance of tempo and rhythm. Never perfect,

but always real. Resolved. Peaceful.

And all the better for magic mushrooms.

John H Davies

24th February 2011