One step closer and two steps back

It happened to this month of February, regardless of its actual shortness, what generally happens to very busy times: they're gone off in a blink of the eye, as not letting you noticing it, and however as you turn back your look onto it, such a pile of things has accumulated behind your back that you can't see its other end any longer.
One month gone, and one month less to stride the brightest path. I wonder what would happen if time was not enough to close up the cycle. I have to take with me enough light and air, all that is needed. Everything keeps dissolving, my words likewise; it seems I haven't taken for ages this moment to let things fall and calmly rest, like snow. Though I feel now calmness and concentration spreading back along my fingers and my arms, despite exhaustion and sickness.   Snow has been falling all day. I'm exhausted.

There was this feeling to be on the very edge of the world, on this hill gently dipping towards the lake, silent sudden stillness, the concealed intimacy of the trees with the aural light and the slightly feverish and surreal atmosphere. I wish I'd never get used to it.

Heard the latest Coil for the nth time and once never before in such a way, half asleep and struck down by analgesics. Hands suspended in the pale blue light - this is a dreamy album, a bit absent-minded, a bit besides, elusive and mixed. This is about absence and echoes - in this sense, yes, Shadow of the Sun can make the comparison. Echoes of a party over for hours. "In a way, it had to end up like that, it had to stop at some point, they were consumed by drugs..." All so beautiful and sad...

Sitting in the cathedral and whispering to each other about all signs we could see... Roses and thorns, all dead rising from their graves, the impressive multiplicity of wings spreading all over the vaulting, the arches themselves converging and conveying, all those lines of force converging skywards, I came close to Stendhal syndrome with its dizziness and aspiration. Sneaking through my mind with a unprecedented clarity but not much of rejection or affliction from my part came this idea that, after all, I was still close from this doctrine of asceticism. You hardly get rid of it. It is what I'm drowning in recently. I am ready to spend years in apnoea for a remote light. What are one or two years worth after centuries in a desert? Things are terribly lacking immediate obviousness lately, to the point that I'm wondering if I'm not drawing now more comfort out of the hardest way than out of this unsure, blurred and quivering end. This end, but those words which keep on moving me so deeply, hitting me at heart, every single time... Just being, and I am tying myself to discipline and work; should I forget myself throughout or forget anything else, would I make a way towards illumination, or maybe downwards, simple masochism. Although it is so comforting to see will overcome, to at last realise this commitment to do what one decides regardless of its inner resources, matching at last willingness and outcome... I'm not sure what I'm struggling for. At least if I'm losing myself into others I'd vanish and mist into fond help and happiness. Wish clearer times are soon to come, times, albeit momentary, to just being.