February 12, 2002

  • The stone grows old,
    Eternity is not made for stones.
    But I shall go down from this airy space, this swift
        white peace, this stingy exultation;
    And time will close about me, and my soul stir to
        the rhythm of the daily round.
    Yet, having known, life will not press so close,
    And always I shall feel time ravel thin about me.
    For once I stood
    In the white windy presence of eternity.


    Eunice Tierjens

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