All Hell Breaks Loose
lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate
The gates of Hell are open night and day;
smooth the descent, and easy is the way:
but, to return, and view the cheerful skies;
in this, the task and mighty labor lies.
and still she sits, young while the earth is old
The world is all gates, all opportunities . . .
. . . strings of tension waiting to be struck.
(Whenever God closes a door, some idiot somewhere opens a window.)
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.
Why, then the world's mine oyster, which I with sword shall open.
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Hang on to your husbands, girls.
(And be sure that you lock up your wife and daughters.)
The bitch is back.