Hattertown
The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.
Carl Jung (via ethereal1)

(excerpt)

And I’ve seen black pavement stretch out ahead of me two hundred miles deep
more times now than I can count
and three hours behind the wheel is nothing now
and I’ve wandered by myself for so many years
Watching stars pinwheel and summer unfurl into in Autumn

It’s not a hurt and it’s not a void
I carry everyone with me always but
It’s boots worn thin, you know
the sword and shield they don’t get heavy
But sometimes I think there must be a place where you rest

Lately though I ask myself
If it’s this way because I don’t know how to stay
How to ask, or how to belong
If family is something far away
And home is always somewhere else

Did I forget along the way,
or was there some moment
when I left and
I’ve been wandering ever since
Carrying friendship with me like
Firelight in the wilderness

There’s a purpose, I know
There’s a place, and there’s you
Don’t know who you are
But maybe you’ve watched these stars
and maybe you hear the Sun

In Stickory Wood, looking uphill and downhill. The Hedge is thin, here.

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ghoulnextdoor:

 Anne Lemanski; Mixed Media Sculpture “FENNEC FOX (DOG STAR)”

It is a hard lesson to learn, but sometimes, perhaps even often, you will resist the things that are good for you.