h-haller

I am a house. Some, I invite in. A few have ventured beyond the main rooms, the parlor, the kitchen... A handful have even ventured beyond the main floor. To the eager thoughts and introspections that sit outside any casual conversation. And maybe one or two have seen where I rest. Where inhibitions fall away. Where I retreat to forget the pace of the world and the judgments that so often bind me there. But there is a room so dark that I can only guess what lies within. This space I can only blindly wander through. This place that I would never invite you in.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all convictions, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity. Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand. The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert A shape with lion body and the head of a man, A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its