Feel the pangs of the restive heath…

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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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