Gary Snyder

And dreamed that the Egyptian god Set appeared to me & delivered a long prophetic poem, which I forgot.

O Muse who comes in a fiery cart wearing a skirt of revolving swords, trumpeting and insistent; O Muse who comes through the hedge wearing a a gray coat, to stand under the ash-tree beckoning…

Comes a time when the poet must choose: either to step deep in the stream of his people, history, tradition, folding and folding himself in wealth of persons and pasts; philosophy, humanity, to become richly foundationed and great and sane and ordered. Or, to step beyond the bound onto the way out, into horrors and angels, possible madness or silly Faustian doom, possible utter transcendence, possible enlightened return, possible ignominious wormish perishing

— Earth House Hold