An Epiphany...

Ah... yes... almost 5 in the freaking morning... stomach gurgling in protest at something... but at least not milk or milk product this time. And... I am not tired. My eyes aren't even tired for some strange reason. Hmm... well, it could be because I just had an epiphany of sorts. A few hours ago, when surfing through my "favourite" blogs and sites, I accidentally hit the wrong one... It was a link that I had saved to the works of an Irish poet that I had discovered only last year, or the year before. I had read a few of his poems and had posted a couple on the blog, but for some reason, I just decided to read some more earlier tonight (or last night if you want to be picky). I was once again moved by the "feel" of the poems. I don't know what it is, but some of them seem as though they could have been written by a woman, or at least to me they did. Anyways, I saved a couple of the ones of interest as blogdrafts so that I wouldn't have to fiddle around with any formatted textboxes and other crap, and went about doing other things for a couple hours. I came back to it as there was one poem that I decided to save in Word as well and when I did... that is when it came to me.

This is the poem I was reading and wanted to save:

ALL the morn a spirit gay

Breathes within my heart a rhyme,

’Tis but hide and seek we play

In and out the courts of time.

Fairy lover, when my feet

Through the tangled woodland go,

’Tis thy sunny fingers fleet

Fleck the fire dews to and fro.

In the moonlight grows a smile

Mid its rays of dusty pearl—

’Tis but hide and seek the while,

As some frolic boy and girl.

When I fade into the deep

Some mysterious radiance showers

From the jewel-heart of sleep

Through the veil of darkened hours.

Where the ring of twilight gleams

Round the sanctuary wrought,

Whispers haunt me—in my dreams

We are one yet know it not.

Some for beauty follow long

Flying traces; some there be

Seek thee only for a song:

I to lose myself in thee.

I was then about to save the poem under its title, "Alter Ego" by... and the initials that he penned under... "AE". His name is George William Russell, born 1867, died 1935. I have no clue whatsoever how much of a mystery the "AE" was, although I did read something regarding a printer or publisher's mistype of AEon, but I just did a double-take, and a "doh". Could it be that simple? A.E. = Alter Ego?

Argh... I should be sleeping...  it is now after 5:30... egads! Tomorrow, or later today rather, this may just seem the ramblings of a sleep-deprived insane person with a rumbling tummy.