T.S. Eliot in the conclusion of the Four Quartets: after an endless consummated journey one knows one’s origins for the first time, as part of a circumambulated totality:
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
This circular wholeness should be the very essence, or fabric, of existence: “a condition of complete simplicity”. Life as a circle of consumed fire, costing no less than everything...until one arrives, in the exploration, at a point or another on the lines of the circle…and then finally, the circle is sealed tight and curvaceously closed...all the discrete fragments-dots and endless dispersed pixels consolidated into a continuous curve, the circle of life circled…
Charmed by the sirens of life, we invariably think there is something more than the dark rocks were are heading t00000000000000
