drifting

Just in from sipping a cup of steaming chai and letting the cool night breeze caress my face. It’s good to be alive and have a lyric echoing in my soul, for a chair and violins and Mr. Yeats himself gave themselves to me little more than an hour ago.

I heard the old, old men say,

‘Everything alters,

And one by one we drop away.’

They had hands like claws, and their knees

Were twisted like the old thorn-trees

By the waters.

I heard the old, old men say,

‘All that’s beautiful drifts away

Like the waters.’

William Butler Yeats – The Old Men Admiring Themselves In The Water

Thoughts too, emerge: love knows nothing of expectations; responsibility indeed, but never the evil tyrant of expectation.