Last Days - February 20, 2010
forgetting its own enchantment whispers:
I too love oblivion why not its full
of second chances Now,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. Now!
booms the muscle of the wind.
Currently I am immersed in a study of "last days" by reading fiction and nonfiction concerning apocalyptic myths. I wonder why this myth persists throughout the centuries. Perhaps it is to tell a story of hope, that the end means a beginning, and that we can begin again anew. In the mess of our lives, in the mess we've made of the planet and of human cultures, we so badly want to build something new, but we don't know how. Perhaps there is something hopeful in wiping the slate clean so that we may inscribe gratitude and love upon our cultural constructs.
Where might you have the impulse to get rid of everything so that you could start again?