A bust of Janus speaks

No-one hence will ope or shut one door

Save honoring the memory of Twoface,

Presiding. The horizon I embrace

Of unsure ocean waters and land sure.

My two visages espy the past

And future. Them I see and they’re one still

The fighting steel the discords and the ills

Which Someone could have and has not erased

Nor shall erase. I have not my hands

And am of moveless stone. I cannot

Specify if what I see is not yet

Dispute or that long time ago began.

I see my ruin: one eroded pillar

And visages, that shall not see each other.

Jorge Luis Borges