I am reading and commenting The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock. A work gaining momentum with subtlety and tragedy. One cannot but identify with The Great Loser and his increasing sense of failure, paradoxically it seems almost a success, or am I exaggerating?
Probably the most powerful and dramatic image is:
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
That celebrates, putting together, desperation, strength, vastness, loneliness, motion and silence.