Tuesday, December 25, 2012

A Night Thought

The stone is cold beneath my butt. Yet, I continue to sit on it, outside in the cold. The night has some chill in it. I like winter. A mild chilly sensation is running up through my left butt-cheek. I can feel it. That's a good sign. It's safe to read Wordsworth, now.

A Night Thought by William Wordsworth
















Lo! where the Moon along the sky
Sails with her happy destiny;
Oft is she hid from mortal eye
Or dimly seen,
But when the clouds asunder fly
How bright her mien!

Far different we--a froward race,
Thousands though rich in Fortune's grace
With cherished sullenness of pace
Their way pursue,
Ingrates who wear a smileless face
The whole year through.

If kindred humours e'er would make
My spirit droop for drooping's sake,
From Fancy following in thy wake,
Bright ship of heaven!
A counter impulse let me take
And be forgiven.

William Wordsworth


Oh my! Such envy!

But then, I look up in to the sky. Who wouldn't envy those stars, those celestial bodies, hanging in mid-air? Nothing to worry about. Not a dime to care. Throwing their weight all down, defying gravity. Glowing stars, shining in their privileges. The moon, a paradigm of beauty; no light of its own.

All these constituting the night. The night, the one part of the day that I love. The night that's mine. The night glorified with these - these pompous celestial bodies.

True to be jealous.

Good night.