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Once it Happened . . .
by Hermann Hesse

Once it happened as I lay awake at night, that I suddenly spoke in verses. In verses so beautiful and strange that I did not venture to think of writing them down, and then in the morning they vanished; and yet they lay hidden within me like a hard kernel within an old brittle husk. Once it came to me while reading a poet; while pondering a thought of Descartes, of Pascal; again it shone out and drove its golden track far into the sky while I was in the presence of my beloved. Ah, but it is hard to find this track of the divine in the midst of this life we lead, in this besotted humdrum age of spiritual blindness, with its architecture, its business, its politics, its men!

We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness.

"Steppenwolf" by Hermann Hesse - 1929