Late (means today) have noticed that this serie of twelve may represent enough accurately my last twelve months, since early february 2007, starting with a stress triggered disease, a breaking point in april (3rd prism), another un july (sixth), two months in very ill or faded colours -august and september: 7th and 8th-, two clear flourations of the mind in october and november (ninth and tenth), a conclusion in december (eleventh), and a clear vision from january on, again, represented by this ending. To my surprise, the serie represents my last working year.
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly! — yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost forever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.— A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.— One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same! — For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Mutability".
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