The Dark That Keeps Out The Light


Life Scribbles

The little girl, only twelve, did not know what to do anymore.

Her mother was a crumpled mess of smeared mascara.

And every morning when the little girl awoke, she

would tuck her beautiful mother,

whose emerald eyes, once sparkled with intrepid life,

into bed.

Racked with worry, she asked;

“Mother, why do you always go to sleep as soon as the sun rises?”

“Because,” her mother choked.

“When you have been down in a dark place for too long,

you become afraid of the light.”

The little girl did not understand.

One day, she would.


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A Transcription of ‘The Second Coming’, by W. B. Yeats

Yeats is always a favorite of mine

Ter Centum /Quadraginta Quatuor

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: a waste of desert sand;
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
Wind 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…

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