while the music lasts

Men's curiosity searches past and future 

And clings to that dimension. 

But to apprehend 

The point of intersection of the timeless 

With time, is an occupation for the saint - No occupation either, 

but something given And taken,

 in a lifetime's death in love, 

Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender. 

For most of us, there is only the unattended

 Moment, the moment in and out of time, 

The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight, 

The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning 

 Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply 

That it is not heard at all, but you are the music 

While the music lasts.

~ T.S. Eliot

excerpt from The Dry Salvages