The Hollow Men

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
leaning together
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass...

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us-- if at all-- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

...

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
The broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

...

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

~T.S. Eliot

much in common

there is so much, he said,
in common between the
black struggle and the
brown struggle

the conversation passes
i nod inquisitively,
sinking into my seat
their faces mirroring
colours of the struggle
colours, of that knowledge
colours of the club

white bread on the table,
bleached and baked fresh
clear water fizzles,
soup steams.

silent, then a nervous
laughter,
we're happy to have you too,
he says,
and i say no that's fine.
i couldn't...

i couldn't.

rebirth

what was it like?

i have never before or again experienced such joy.

or such pain.