The tmes in which we live. Only a poet can describe it:
‘The Second Coming’
By William Butler Yeats, 1920.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 desertA 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?
borderslynn 