As the world gets crazier and crazier, I continue to think of this poem by Yeats written at the end of WWI.
Feels more relevant each passing day
#Bitcoin
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?
Nik Logan
npub176…djgna
2024-08-07 04:18:42
Author Public Key
npub176hnld9t77jumw3njafmerj7g4ts8vrz29zv25g3lycg4mz0r0yqrdjgnaPublished at
2024-08-07 04:18:42Event JSON
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"content": "As the world gets crazier and crazier, I continue to think of this poem by Yeats written at the end of WWI. \n\nFeels more relevant each passing day\n\n#Bitcoin\n\n\nThe Second Coming\n\nTurning and turning in the widening gyre\n\nThe falcon cannot hear the falconer;\n\nThings fall apart; the centre cannot hold;\n\nMere anarchy is loosed upon the world,\n\nThe blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere\n\nThe ceremony of innocence is drowned;\n\nThe best lack all conviction, while the worst\n\nAre full of passionate intensity.\n\nSurely some revelation is at hand;\n\nSurely the Second Coming is at hand.\n\nThe Second Coming! Hardly are those words out\n\nWhen a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi\n\nTroubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert\n\nA shape with lion body and the head of a man,\n\nA gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,\n\nIs moving its slow thighs, while all about it\n\nReel shadows of the indignant desert birds.\n\nThe darkness drops again; but now I know\n\nThat twenty centuries of stony sleep\n\nWere vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,\n\nAnd what rough beast, its hour come round at last,\n\nSlouches towards Bethlehem to be born?",
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