In memory of Severn P. C. Duvall, who introduced me to these words—and so much more. If I am a poet at all, you taught me the way toward it.
Your words echo thus, in my mind.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither the arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.
From Burnt Norton by T.S. Eliot