March 2,  2022

 

The Hollow Men

 

A penny for the Old Guy
 
I
 
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
As quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar.
 
Shape without form, shade without color,
Paralyzed force, gesture without meaning.

 

 from T.S. Eliot