‘All this you were clear of…’

‘And you,’ he faltered, ‘what are you doing here

but the same thing? What possessed you?

I at least was young and unaware

 

that what I thought was chosen was convention.

But all this you were clear of you walked into

over again. And the god has, as they say, withdrawn.

 

What are you doing, going through these motions?

Unless … Unless … ‘ Again he was short of breath

and his whole fevered body yellowed and shook.

 

‘Unless you are here taking the last look.’

 

Seamus Heaney, Station Island, IV 

 

‘But all this you were clear of you walked into / over again.’   That would make a good epigraph for this blog.

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