In the wake of the revolutions of today, with over 80 people reported killed in Libya….what face is this of a revolution? Will this sacrifice bring the onset of change? Can we define or envision that change? Will it be peace? Will it be just a prelude to more bloodshed?Will it bring fruits? Will it sing unsung songs of futility?
I can’t but recall Wilfred Owen….
Move him into the sun –
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds, –
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-achieved, are sides,
Full-nerved – still warm, – too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
– O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
After the blast of lightning from the east,
The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot throne,
After the drums of time have rolled and ceased
And from the bronze west long retreat is blown,
Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth
All death will he annul, all tears assuage?
Or fill these void veins full again with youth
And wash with an immortal water age?
When I do ask white Age, he saith not so, —
“My head hangs weighed with snow.”
And when I hearken to the Earth she saith
My fiery heart sinks aching. It is death.
Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified
Nor my titanic tears the seas be dried.”
With quite a few media of communication available , why does one feel to have closed all communication channels?
Alone in my chamber, forsaken, unsought,
My spirit’s enveloped in shadows of night,
Is there no one to give me a smile or a thought?
Is there none to restore to me faded delight?
The zephyrs disport with a light-bosomed song,
And the joy-laden songsters flit over the lea–
Yet the hours of the spring as they hurry along
Bring nothing but sadness and sighing to me!
There were friends–but their love is departed and dead,
And alone must the tear-drop disconsolate start,
All the beauty of Life, all its sweetness is fled,
Oh, who shall unburden this weight at my heart!