Aeon (updated 10/9/14)

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: a waste of desert sand;
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
Wind 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?

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darkbard said:

Checking into this thread as infrequently as even the most stalwart of Sep enthusiasts must do these days, I only now noticed your posting of Yeats's great poem, [MENTION=1613]grodog[/MENTION]. Could not be more appropriate to both the present moment and much of the spirit of Sep's story. Well done!

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TheBrassDuke said:

Hey, where can I find the entire compiled piece now, again? I think I lost that link.

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