It Is A World Of Words That

If You Were Blind You Would Hardly Have Fallen In Love In The First Place. But Now, Do You Truly Wish To See The Beloved In The Cold Clarity Of The Visual Apparatus? It May Be In Your Better Interest To Throw A Veil Over The Gaze, So As To Keep Her Alive In Her Archetypal, Goddesslike Form.

One Thought Alone Preoccupies The Submerged Mind Of Empire: How Not To End, How Not To Die, How To Prolong Its Era. By Day It Pursues Its Enemies. It Is Cunning And Ruthless, It Sends Its Bloodhounds Everywhere. By Night It Feeds On Images Of Disaster: The Sack Of Cities, The Rape Of Populations, Pyramids Of Bones, Acres Of Desolation.

His Mind Has Become A Refuge For Old Thoughts, Idle, Indigent, With Nowhere Else To Go. He Ought To Chase Them Out, Sweep The Premises Clean. But He Does Not Care To Do So, Or Does Not Care Enough"(72).

My Response, A Dubious And Hesitant One, Is That It Has Been And May Continue To Be, In The Time That Is Left To Me, More Productive To Live Out The Question Than To Try To Answer It In Abstract Terms.

To The Last We Have Learned Nothing. In All Of Us, Deep Down, There Seems To Be Something Granite And Unteachable. No One Truly Believes, Despite The Hysteria In The Streets That The World Of Tranquil Certainties We Were Born Into Is About To Be Extinguished.