first direct light touch 10:12am b
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: somewhere in 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?
a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun
"28 jan 21" pencil, color pencil, printer paper [last direct light forgot]