Life’s nonsense pierces us with strange relation. - Wallace Stevens

Reality is the beginning not the end, Naked Alpha, not the hierophant Omega, Of dense investiture, with luminous vassals.

The boots of the men clump On the boards of the bridge. The first white wall of the village Rises through fruit-trees. Of what was it I was thinking? So the meaning escapes.

Straight to the utmost crown of night he flew. The nothingness was a nakedness, a point Beyond which thought could not progress as thought. He had to choose. But it was not a choice Between excluding things. It was not a choice Between, but of. He chose to include the things That in each other are included, the whole, The complicate, the amassing harmony.