Wednesday evening poetry break: A Revelation
If you detect echoes of William Butler Yeats, and even T.S. Eliot, well, A) you're very perceptive, and B) I merely stand on the shoulders of giants.
A Revelation Emptiness. Roads where you can drive 80. Pull into a parking lot and you have your choice of spaces. Stores shuttered. Stay home, please. The city’s buzz stilled and stifled. There is some apocalypse afoot. There is some great opening afoot. We await a great revelation, as our fates are decided, without our consent, without our willing it. We are but motes in the eyes of God, not even logs. When all is done, what shall we say to those who come after us? Will we kneel before them, beg forgiveness? Or will they merely follow our mistakes?
And, a little music.