Rediscovering

After a perfectly, horribly exhausting day - a morning that made me cry, an afternoon that made me extremely aware of my own inadequacy and/or uselessness, and a positively ludicrous early evening, (and that's not mentioning the sleepless night before) - there is nothing better than a relaxing, hot-tea-and-chat-filled late evening...

Unless its rediscovering some amazing poetry, that is.

For the past year, my favorite poem has been 'The Second Coming' by Yeats. This is a known fact. I love the way you have to read it multiple times to understand it, but when you begin to, its complexities, its brilliance, its chilling message with the capacity for provoking endless thought... I certainly can't do it justice. Suffice to say every time I read it, I am once again unable to think of anything else for some time.

This evening, I rediscovered another poem I will have to add to my favorites: 'The Hollow Men' by T.S. Eliot. I remember vaguely reading it last year or perhaps skimming it, and noting its conjunction with Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness (which I disliked, by the way), but RK reintroduced it to me this evening and it blew me away. I don't claim to undertand it entirely, but to me personally it seems to suggest another sort of hell - one not dominated by fire and brimstone, but terrible nonetheless - dry, grey, and empty, void of life. And the ending - the ending! - is positively haunting.

But one must read the piece in its entirety for the ending to have its full effect. I'd love to reproduce it here, but it's a bit long. You will just have to look it up on Google or something and read it for yourself. Strange, really, that an untimately depressing - frightening, in fact - message should put me in such a good mood, but poetry like that, with the ability to chill me to the bone, is just so good I can't help but be overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of it. Writing this good always makes me happy, after the whole chilling effect has worn off, of course.