The dove
descending breaks the air
With flame of
incandescent terror
Of which the
tongues declare
The one discharge
from sin and error.
The only hope, or
else despair
Lies in the
choice of pyre or pyre –
To be redeemed
from fire by fire.
Who then devisted
the torment? Love.
Love is the
unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands
that wove
The intolerable
shirt of flame
Which human power
cannot remove.
We only live,
only suspire
Consumed by
either fire or fire.
--T. S. Eliot, Little
Gidding (Part IV)
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