four in the morning, another sleepless night. Curse this insomnia. Tommorow I return to the Burgh from visiting my family. Back to the life of faerie wings and coffee shops. Hopefully with a bit more focus this time, and a lot less madness. The web of infinite reflections has been overwhelming, but I have pulled back from the edge for a moment. The vertigo resides and I can continue my never ending quest for meaning yet again. Turning, turning, in context and patterns a lone star falls bright, leaving its tale for interpretation and posterity.
"I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast our remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest."
-Yeats from A Dialogue of Self and Soul
"I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast our remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest."
-Yeats from A Dialogue of Self and Soul