Broken Light flows out –
Returns to the frame
Self reflection .
Tomorrow frames thoughts
of yesterday – memories
grow, corrode edges.
This post approaches singularity cubed.
In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.
– stanza 1~ East Coker Part 2 of T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets”
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
– Hamlet (1.5.167-8), Hamlet to Horatio
Look ! There is a part of them you do not see.
It twists and turns between light and shadow.
It gathers in the Implied Space
That is surrounded by the day-to-day.
It moves just beneath the mundanity
That glues the seconds together into minutes –
It is bordered by thoughts
Crusted by time,
Covered in the brown barnacles of daily routine
and circled by habituated rituals.
Look ! Lightly step by –
Now look away, crusted thoughts –
time pulls back from you.