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The Second Coming

[Originally posted to my first blog at Xanga]

Things in Israel are still fucked up, and as I watch the news, there is only one thing going again and again through my mind, Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming.” Here it is; read it and you’ll see why:

The Second Coming
W.B. Yeats

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 convictions, 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?

I find it quite eerie.
I could write (and have done so) a full essay on how exactly this poem applies to the events, but I think it is obvious enough in parts, and the rest is for you to figure it out by yourself.

Do we, as a race, not learn?

— Highmoon
Still jobless and starting to freak out for real

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