Did I know you once?
"No. You never knew me. Why do you pretend?"
It's just that this departure, this falling away, seems so familiar. But it doesn't matter, knowing isn't everything. Each thing has its season. This is the season of loss. Today I will gather the pieces, conserve, put my black cloak on. The stars turn and tic through their predetermined paths: what once was always is, will be again.
Today, on this November day, as the sun weakens, the gold dulls and flakes, as fires fragment, I will sit on the rooftop away from the world and sip my drink, look to the skies, as a statue looks to the gods of the North.
"But how will you see the golden star in the day?"
If one looks in a deep well it is possible. For there it is nightime for the star and the dark water is like a mirror.
My dream exercised with sorrow,broken, awry,
with the gliter of temptation,
wounded, morose, with but one sparkle,
brain, heart and love troubled.
---Sorley Maclean.
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