Heck, this hails back to something I shared here back in 2003. This morning, I slightly revised my translation of this poem by Borges:
For a version of the I Ching
The future is as irrevocable
as the inflexible yore.
There's not a thing that is not a silent letter
of the eternal undecipherable script
whose book is time. That who withdraws
from home has already returned. Our life is the future and wandered path.
Austerity has woven the skein.
Do not fear. The prison is dark,
the firm weave of unending iron,
but at some turn in your confinement
there could be a light, a small opening.
The path is as fatal as an arrow.
But in its cracks, there's God stalking.
Jorge Luis Borges