07 April 2008

Eclipsed with books, moments of lightself, imagination groping, world of form abandoned [I'd do it all over again]



My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul?

from "A Dialogue of Self and Soul"
The Winding Stair and Other Poems
W.B. Yeats 1933

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