Time?

Up early with a mug of hot & black and writing tentatively while the computer updates; tentatively because it may cut out at any moment and restart.

As indeed it did, down for about forty or fifty minutes while I gaze out at Wednesday morning dawning.

Puzzling to me, I don't do any social media sites. On days I write blog nonsense I do put a link to it on my Facebook page, and if it's a sermon transcript also a link to it on the church's Facebook page but that's all. I don't do any of the other social media. And for the life of me, with all the opportunities and challenges of need on Earth, I can't understand the world's richest man wanting to own and control Twitter, he must have a psychological problem, a control freak, or dreams of power, directing human thought, brings to mind "Jesus Christ Superstar," the fatuous King Herod with all the adoring sycophants around him, and knowing he's the most important person ever.

Well, the box is opened now, so WTH - - Russia's bullying war on Ukraine, reports that Russian generals have discussed using tactical nuclear weapons. The war itself is evil enough as it is, the first use of nuclear weapons will be the start of escalation that will bring "Earth Abides" and other apocalyptic horrors to reality. Maybe its Time has come at last? Remember Yeats' poem?

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming" - - he wrote it in 1919 when Europe was in a chaotic nightmare of horror after the First World War. At that Time before our weapons of mass destruction, Yeats probably couldn't have imagined humanity, people, man spiraling so far down morally as to consider himself so important that he'd destroy all that is in order to save himself or simply to have the last word. But that's where we are.

Wednesday.