"...For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime,
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns
And the round ocean and the living air
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man..."
What Wordsworth wrote centuries ago resonates with me tonight. It's crystalline outside, and while the temperature reminds us that winter is reluctant to let go, the evening fragrances hint of spring's first blooms. And with every step, I remember other nights, evenings of childhood when each night seemed a hundred days long; midnights of my teenage years, filled with doubts of what the sunrise might bring; nights that resolutely link me to the world of darkness all around.
There are times when being alone at night helps my thoughts to coalesce; I sometimes feel almost on the cusp of profundity as I walk. Unfortunately, the profundity seems to be vanquished by the lights of the house, by the glow of the computer screen, and I'm left with mundane observations once again... but I know that the profundity is out there, waiting on me...