The seep of time is the rot of it The indissoluble effable lout, time. Grip out a handful of song & sing The ineffable unaccounted tout, time. Twice the multiplication, thrice The reckoning of sliced out time.Here the impossible union
of spheres of existence is actual,
Here the past and future
Are conquered, and reconciled – “The Dry Salvages”, T.S. Eliot