If it could come to pass, and all kill all
And in a day or a week we could destroy
Ourselves, that is the b~ginning only
Of the destruction, for so we murder all
That ever has been, all species and forms,
Man and woman and child, beast and bird,
Tree, flower and herb, and that by which they were known,
Sight and hearing and touch, feeling and thought,
And memory of our friends among the dead.
If there were only a single ear that listening heard
A footstep coming nearer, it would bring
Annunciation of the world’s resurrection.
A sound! We would not know even the silence
Where all was now as if it had never been.
Mechanical parody of the Judgment Day
That does not judge but only deals damnation.
Let us essay a hypothetical picture.
“All these and all alone in death’s last day
Before them stretches the indifferent ocean
Where no wave lifts its head and stagnant water
Lies spent against the shore. Yet as they wait
A wan light from the east falls on their faces
And they cannot bear the light, and hide in the ground,
Yet have no comfort there, for all are alone.
And there awaken the dark ancestral dreams.
They dream that the grave and the sea give up their dead
In wonder at the news of the death of death,
Hearing that death itself is balked by death.
And those who were drowned a year or a thousand years
Come out with staring eyes, foam on their faces,
And quaint sea-creatures fixed like jewelled worms
Upon their salt-white crowns, sea-tangle breasts,
That they, the once dead, might know the second death.
And then a stir and rumour break their dream,
As men and women at the point of death
Rise from their beds and clasp the grc/and in hope
Imploring sanctuary from grass and root
That never failed them yet and seemed immortal.
And women faint with child-birth lay their babes
Beside them on the earth and turn away
And lovers two by two estranged for ever
Lie each in place without a parting look.
And the dying awakened know
That the generous do not try to help their neighbours,
Nor the feeble and greedy ask for succour,
Nor the fastidious complain of ther company
Nor the ambitious dream of a great chance lost
Nor the preacher try to save one soul. For all
Think only of themselves and curse the faithless earth.
The sun rises above the sea, and they look and think:
‘We shall not watch its setting’. And all get up
And stare at the sun. But they hear no great voice crying:
‘There shall be no more time, nor death, nor change,
Nor fear, nor hope, nor longing, nor offence,
Nor need, nor shame’. But all are silent, thmking:
‘Choose! Choose again, you who have chosen this!
Too late! Too late!’
And then: ‘Where and by whom shall we be remembered?’”
Imaginary picture of a stationary fear.