Raising the Awen returns…. checkout the Y
ou playful lyres, you magnificent shysters, you wordsmiths, you darlings, you glowing space cadets, you abject winners and specious losers, pipers and prisoners, ashes and diamond dogs, miners for truth and delusion – shine on.
Will she ever return to this wicked little village? The elusive spirit that breaks on the tongue with the flotsam of the heart.
Only time will tell. But as the wise have already noted:
“time, in fact, is rather vulgarly dramatic; it is the sentimentalist of the dimensions.”