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 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 journalists lack all conviction,
while the worst Virologists
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Omicron is at hand.
The Omicron! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:
while the worst Virologists
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Omicron is at hand.
The Omicron! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:
somewhere in sands of the Kalahari desert
A shape with bat wings and the spike 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 cave bats.
A shape with bat wings and the spike 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 cave bats.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That eight years of frozen sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking centrifuge,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Wuhan to be reborn?
That eight years of frozen sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking centrifuge,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Wuhan to be reborn?
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