The Story of My Life
blanket by the hearth.
Often when I dream, thoughts pass through my mind like cowled shadows,
silent and remote, and disappear. Perhaps they are the ghosts of
thoughts that once inhabited the mind of an ancestor. At other times the
things I have learned and the things I have been taught, drop away, as
the lizard sheds its skin, and I see my soul as God sees it. There are
also rare and beautiful moments when I see and hear in Dreamland. What
if in my waking hours a sound should ring through the silent halls
of hearing? What if a ray of light should flash through the darkened
chambers of my soul? What would happen, I ask many and many a time.
Would the bow-and-string tension of life snap? Would the heart,
overweighted with sudden joy, stop beating for very excess of happiness?
THE END