Thoughts

T.S. Eliot
-from "Ash- Wednesday," VI

     This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.
     Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the
          garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

     And let my cry come unto Thee.

In memory of our cousin, Matthew Andrew Tyrrell, departed this life four years ago on this day.

And for my mother's sister, my precious Aunt Margaret who just returned home to die after a brief illness. Please pray for her and my Uncle Dale and their family, my cousins. For peace. For comfort. For joy.