Tommaso, Triumph of Christianity

May 28, 2010 20:40


From LJ

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.

eliot, tommaso, wasteland

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