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Frost, Fire and Ice obsidian

Posted by sigismund on August 21, 2010, at 22:35:45

In reply to poems, posted by obsidian on August 21, 2010, at 21:50:41

From Little Gidding, by Eliot


IV

The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
Lies in the choice of pyre of pyre
To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.


That's pretty f*ck*ng reactionary (if that's the right word). The thing that loves us tortures us? Or maybe something else? I love the first verse anyway.

 

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URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20100706/msgs/959369.html