impotent desire of Eliot wrote
students sitting-steps smoke-till-they-choke
watching cars dart by under a hazy blue dome of irish light
the sky now so far away
we've wandered into a swamp,
and we're struggling,
quick-sand has its heavy grip,
sucking down thighs and eyes,
calves, fingertips, toes beneath ground...
there is no place to go, no goal...
lost in darkness blinded by the light.