Six Hundred Threescore and Six by nawtyangel
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Description
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?
-- William Butler Yeats
Comments (3)
mlevans
Gruesome little thing, isn't it? You trying to scare the h**l out of all of us? That texture is a splendid piece of work, and the glowing eyes are awesome. Great job.
Aeneas
Did you read "A Vision"? I like the intensity of this, and, even in the perfectly rendered arrogance and disinterest on this creature's face, I can find beauty. Thanks from a Yeats lover. You dared to put in images how you interpret this poem.
Doublecrash
This is a masterpiece. I'm without words. Such force and beauty and ferocity in one simple image... the look in the child's eyes is terrific and beautiful at the same time.