I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the light of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Do you ever struggle with the beauty, purity and sense of purpose
of idealism and the complexes of reality? Edna and I are simpatico.
I'm getting out for some fresh air today, but not locking my door.
Not just yet.