Cycles
“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…”
(The Second Coming: W. B. Yeats)
There moves a cyclic scheme that over-rules
All things, both living and inanimate.
Each owns a period in which it grows
From chaos to stability of form,
Then suffers an inevitable fall —
Back to amorphous anonymity —
Before it resurrects itself, once more. endowed
With newly reconstructed possibilities.
From dire disintegration’s stress is forced
Recombination — elements transformed
Anew by incandescent energies
So fierce they both dissolve and meld at once
The indestructible constituents
Of all that was, or is, or shall be made.
From wild primæval flux regeneration flows
In constant cycles since the universe emerged.
So is it, also, in our human lives.
Therefore we find, (for each shall find, some day),
Our best ambitions and endeavours grow,
Fade and die, no matter what we do. Then,
Out from such bleak, seeming-disasters, our
Creative minds can build afresh for us
Future opportunities even more sublime
Than we could have conceived before our trauma-times.
