They Flash upon that Inward Eye

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show, to me had brought...

It's been more than a year, give or take a few days. And yet, I have never really done my heart's bidding – to have my meal at night, switch off all the lights and sit out on the ledge of the balcony of our 11^th floor apartment looking out over Croydon, London. To look down in silence over the glare of a city forever frothing with energy and gaze up at wondrousness at the expanse of a sky that seems contentedly becalmed.

Somehow, whenever I have stepped out, I have always looked down first – at the lights, shimmering all around in different shades; the myriad sounds that evoke a thousand confused connotations all at once; the cars, the buses & the pedestrians, all in an unseeming hurry to get somewhere - a collage of activity, energy, confusion, hurriedness.

And then, as if to set the mind at rest again and to soothe your soul, the eyes wander to the view above - to the ethereal serenity of the sky; the slow, but unerring trundle of the silver-lined grey clouds. The mind frees itself from the shackles of reality and wanders unhindered, into the realms of fantasy. Cotton balls floating around on a grey sea, dragon shaped monsters lining up in formation for a battle, serrations of a mountain range hanging upside down from the firmament – there arises, almost a childlike innocence in the vivid imaginations of the mind. Dozens and then with the passage of some more time, perhaps hundreds of the twinkling stars come into view, each assuming an identity of its own, if you peer at them hard enough – till you get oblivious to everything around you and that tiny speck of light far, far up there, seems to be the only thing that you can see. The silver glow of the moon creates a séance like atmosphere - It is fascinating – the feeling of being one in harmony with an unknown cosmic order at large.

And then a cold breeze blew and with a shudder, I realized that it has been almost an hour. As I switched on the lights again, I can almost hear myself groan. But, then every good thing has to be momentary, for us to recall it with pleasure.

 ..... For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my Heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the Daffodils

---------- William Wordsworth