Three poems, three poets, one prophecy.
(William Butler Yeats: The Second Coming)
Turning and turning in the widening gyre the falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy in 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....
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[Edited on Jul 14, 2004 8:13AM]
btw...the abovee creatures are freakin' me out!!!
[Edited on Jul 14, 2004 7:18PM]
[Edited on Jul 15, 2004 8:32AM]