Old men ought to be explorers.
time past and time future what might have been and what has been point to one end, which is always present.
In the end is my beginning.
And would it have been worth it, after all, Would it have been worth while, After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor - And this, and so much more? -
Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow
He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has no face, no name, nothing; and the words, the poem he makes, are a kind of exorcism of this demon.