We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. Only… - T. S. Eliot

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

What might have been and and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened...

Ash on an old man's sleeve,
Is all the ash the burnt roses leave.
Dust in the air suspended
Marks the place where a story ended,
Dust in breathed was a house-
The wall, the wainscot and the mouse.
The death of hope and despair,
This is the death of air.

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.