Feel the pangs of the restive heath…

Feel the pangs of the restive heath below your feet That nightly howl for aught but whatever was conceived unaware of freedom, unquiet in sorrow, perpetually a moment removed from the next climax followed by understanding.

Great is the hope that finds its place in the ever-widening vortex of unquiet crescents and honeyed arias, reaching out and contracting, interconnected on all sides, blind but frozen into a knowing gaze that sits quietly at the edge of the lake still not quite forgetting.

Art: “A Shepherd and his Flock under the Moon and Stars” Samuel Palmer

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