Days and days pass. Nothing happens and everything slips out. What was promised that it would stay? And when there was nothing, what was it that one kept holding all the time. Someone drowning would look for a straw to hold. One gasping has nothing to hold on. The air is heavy. Or so sparse.. I’m dying.. I’m dying..
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.
There is no Second Coming.. There is no Second Coming..