There is a well in the middle of a clearing, centered in a dark forest at the center of my mind. The water is moving, neurons shivering like leaves forming and re-forming the networks of this animus. The trees are moving while I remain still. They are full of voices and memories, some of them are murmuring and some are screaming. The shadow of the old stag and the headless mother are moving through the filtered light just beyond my vision.
The stones of the well are shaking, it is the door to the undiscovered country beyond the knowledge of my will and hastily collected wisdom. What can I do but let my self fall down, let all the trees and the wandering spirits drown as I pass deeper into the darkness. What is there here to discover in the vast emptiness? I am still here, and the twilight between the mind and the sands of the distance is far from empty. When I come to that undiscovered country, I will set myself down under the plum blossoms, and let time stretch out at my feet like a river.