interesting combination of wordsworth and eliot. what are you seeking "to encounter"? that was the most mysterious and fascinating bit for me. it could be hopeful for a real encounter even in the face of overwhelming hollowness, or it could be a cyclical torment...
A HEAP OF BROKEN IMAGES
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A HEAP OF BROKEN IMAGES
As long as I strive, I err.
As long as I’m alive
the world will never change its ways
but the still sad music of humanity,
sick of its business, lays waste
its powers, is too much with us,
sings, celebrates its own hollowness
with its dried voice,
quiet and meaningless.
To live, to err, the artist indifferent,
invisible, impalpable, imperishable,
I go to encounter.
There is no conceivable answer.
Sleep, forget our Star,
while you chasten and subdue
everything we once were.