The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky. - William Butler Yeats

O hurry where by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have but looked upon their images--
Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
When the sun looked out of his golden hood?--
O that none ever loved but you and I! O hurry to the ragged wood, for there
I will drive all those lovers out and cry—
O my share of the world, O yellow hair!
No one has ever loved but you and I.

...I'm looking for the face I had, before the world was made...

The mystical life is at the centre of all that I do and all that I think and all that I write.