“Old Men Ought to be Explorers” by T S Eliot

The Four Quartets are perhaps even greater poems then The Wasteland. They are a 20th (and 21st) secular Bible, packed with wisdom, mysticism, and beauty. I have tended to read each of the four long poems in one go, and we recently heard Ralph Fiennes recite them all. It’s a joy to be lost in the whole, but every fragment deserves scrutiny, attention, and love. Perhaps the Four Quartets are best thought of not as four poems but as a hundred poems, poems that can even be rearranged to create new poems. Recently in my reading I came across a reference to the line that “Old men ought to be explorers,” and then I found the poem—or subpoem—below. Inevitably as an old man I’m attracted by the idea of being an explorer. What else is there left for me to be? I don’t know what I’m searching for, nor do I expect to find anything—but I will continue to explore: “here or there does not matter.” Of course, at the end of my exploring will be death, and, as best I can, I’m exploring death without yet…

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