The unceasing tumult of insane happenings continue rolling in, like a relentless pounding of waves threatening to drown us all. It’s enough to make you look for even the slightest glimmer of light in the darkness.
I’m not sure such a glimmer exists. To my way of thinking what’s happening can only continue to get worse until something, anything breaks in a way that no one is going to be able to control. It’s wretched enough that I find myself hoping that happens each morning.
The history of humankind proves that however this reaches a conclusion, that climax and its denouement will make its crescendo seem almost palpably tame by comparison. And, as we’ve proven and continue to prove, we’re certainly no smarter and no better than those who’ve screwed things up in the past.
Sorry for the bleakness. But it’s how I’m feeling things in the middle of this cold, darkening winter. These days remind me of the first stanza of Christina Rossetti’s poem, originally published in 1872 under the title A Christmas Carol.
In the bleak midwinter
frosty wind made moan,
earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone:
snow had fallen,
snow on snow, snow on snow,
in the bleak midwinter,
long ago.
Although today does not feel so long ago.
You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. I can also be found on social media under my name as above.
(image taken by the author)
Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3 