Circles. Cycles. Totality. One

Vincent van Gogh, Wheat Field with a Lark, 1887

“Earth fills her lap with pleasure of her own;

Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,

And,  even with something of a mother’s mind,

And no unworthy aim,

The homely nurse doth all she can

To make fer Foster-child, her inmate Man,

Forget the glories he hath known,

And that imperial palace whence he came.”

–William Wordsworth, from Ode: Imitations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood

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