abran tus ojos

Discoverers also discover themselves as much as discover new countries or new ways. Yet there must cling some threads of the old for the new to entropy, so to speak, into rediscovery. Of the old. For the forgotten country, whose winds fill the sails of masted ships, outward into the assumed Ultima Thule, has for its drawn out tiresomeness the silvery threads of ancient newness renewed upon occasion by the leavings from its shores, its piers, its dotted glances of its most adventuresome spirits traced on the withering sluices. As to gallows reaching into the crack, the slip, the superfluous cloth, the recitations, the long-awaited ring, notwithstanding clauses, soon most inurringly the return fits as an errand, which for some is done, for others is never done. Once extended, unto the far path of placing a hook, or anchor, or some wire on which to hang a dendrite, for the detritus may be, a trail of some sort for the archeologists, there is no sling mechanically to render the curves and lines asunder. So must the ebb of time entangle now all eyes that have seen before, browbeaten to contempt, and all eyes that have yet to see.