Finally we got a gift today, coming to us  through the  dust of history.

Milton s erotic poetry got rediscovered.

Too bad, some of Blake s stronger oeuvre got burned.

Ah, all the pearls dissolved by the vinegar of petty minds deciding for us about the worth of art over the century. All these unrevealed jewels of the spirit we only can experience as energetic echo’s in the dark. Clouded stars  we might meet in the distant fog of the collective unconscious as inspiring dreams and fantasies. Nothing disappears truly forever. The patterns remain.

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