Tuesday, July 7, 2020

"The Second Going" by Yeets


 The Second Going
        By Yeets

   Buffering and refreshing in the widening gyre   
   The vote cannot hear the voice;
   Things fall apart; the center is naught to behold;
   Monetized anarchy is loosed upon the world,
   The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   
   Innocence is drowned in the ceremony;
   The best convictions lack all passion, while the worst   
   Are full of intensity.

   Surely some adumbration is at hand;
   Surely the Second Going is at hand.   
   The Second Going! Hardly are those words out   
   When a vast image out of Simulatum Mundi
   Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   
   A shape with lion body and the head of a human,   
   A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   
   Is slowly moving its thighs, while all about it   
   Reel shadows of the ignorant desert birds.   
   The darkness drops again; but now I know   
   That twenty-one centuries of stony sleep
   Were vexed by a nightmare hand rocking the cradle,   
   And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   
   Slouches towards Bethlehem.com to be born?

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