|At the Tappan Zee (M.A. Reilly, 2010)|
The world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter
...I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river
Is a strong brown god —sullen, untamed and intractable,
Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier;
Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce;
Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
Excerpt from Four Quartets, by T. S. Eliot