As I get older, and the older I get the faster I seem to get older, I find myself regretting all the wonders and miraculous developments I read about and feel that I will miss as time goes on beyond my passing. Every day brings a series of reports on new things in the world – AI for instance – or some prospect promising extraordinary, fresh insights into how the universe works and how man will master all he surveys. I find myself yearning to be there when it all happens. And then I read the Portuguese poet Affonso Romano DeSant Anna’s poem and get things into a rather different perspective. We, I realise, are always there right now.
