“I have no right to call myself one who knows. I was one who seeks, and I still am, but I no longer seek in the stars or in books; I’m beginning to hear the teachings of my blood pulsing within me. My story isn’t pleasant, it’s not sweet and harmonious like the invented stories; it tastes of folly and bewilderment, of madness and dream, like the life of all people who no longer want to lie to themselves.”
— Hermann Hesse, Demian
The tide of my soul at low ebb
It seeks sustenance from mother ocean
as its sandy depths lay bare.
Soon it will come rushing back
Joys and passions renewed in the flow
as the waves compete with the sound
of rushing current
enough to drown even a man
rooted in his dreams.
In the dearth and fullness of dream
I seek wisdom from my inner void
from which the flood will come.
There are answers in the blood
A wildness and peace both in strife and balance
and a calling forth of direction
that I need heed
lest I drown in need
or go mad in sustainment
— G A Rosenberg
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