Rejuvinating Original Sin with every new Creation... and yet...
seeing the gradual decline, degeneration... and yet.
feeling the bulge of walls, suffocation.
And yet. I cannot be nostalgic.
And yet. Here there's no retreat.
Now there's only this, and yet,
possibles impossibly hidden in this heavy mist,
impossibly hidden in the burgeoning grey beyond,
enliven, the humblest thoughts of nought and song,
the fabulous dance of time, even in decline
And in this gyration some particular node will twang and be invigorated to incessant vibrations high pitched resonances will often blur, become one,
and yes, Believe.
And yet - Time is falling - and yet -
Desire is burning.
And yet, lips are smirking...
and yet and yet,
Eliot is learning.