Dark Th!nks

There’s something about the middle of the night – the hour of the wolf – that calls forth our darkest fears and fantasies. Every shadow seems to conceal some unknown threatening something – foreboding, dangerous or sinister. Somehow things seem bleaker at 4 a.m. than they do at 10 a.m. – a lot bleaker.

C!ties and Thrones And Powers

Cities and Thrones and Powers,

Stand in Time’s eye,

Almost as long as flowers,

Which daily die:

But, as new buds put forth,

To glad new men,

Out of the spent and unconsidered Earth, The Cities rise again.

This season’s Daffodil,

She never hears

What change, what chance, what chill,

Cut down last year’s:

But with bold countenance,

And knowledge small,

Esteems her seven days’ continuance

To be perpetual.

So time that is o’er kind,

To all that be,

Ordains us e’en as blind,

As bold as she:

That in our very death,

And burial sure,

Shadow to shadow, well-persuaded, saith, „See how our works endure!“

(Rudyard Kipling)