Apocalipsis

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 Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the 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?

"The Second Coming" (1920) - William B. Yeats

Empecé a ver Millenium.
De nuevo.

Me encantan los asesinos apocalípticos, la reflexiones sobre el mal de Frank Black, los demonios encarnados que juegan a las cartas y se cuentan sus historias, los ramalazos de imágenes siniestras, las referencias al contexto sociohistórico y, sobre todo, el fin del mundo que se avecinaba (y nos pasó de largo).