Ah.. the Sonnets. A perfect end to a wild day… We met with the Soul Enacter, and as with so many of life’s kookiest people, he ended up quite lovely and sharp and insight (incite)ful. Though, honestly, why couldn’t my “issue’ have a better name than “Chaos”?? How about “butterfly” or “gypsy” or “Clarissa”?

Sonnet XXIX (which is # 823.456, I think)

When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,
I alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends
possess’d,

Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hyms at heaven’s gate;

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

-Shakespeare

*****