By some interesting coincidence I encountered it again today.
The timing couldn't have be better.
The events of the world, the images on the screen, the weather outside and the turbulence in the mind are in a heavenly, orgasmic resonance. The flames licking at the edge of the window light the way ahead. The profusion of uncertainity pushes us one step forward. Bullets, half-baked thoughts and the scrolling text show us the path.
Sing with me this song of hope.
The Second Coming
Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
- W.B.Yeats
2 comments:
I'm always creeped out by this poem... That's the power of it I guess... The chilling last lines especially. And now, in the current context, all the more so.
Song of hope indeed.
hehe.
It's visuals are striking, haunting. I think the second coming is here!
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