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 MundiTroubles 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 itReel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again;
but now I knowThat 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?
MY PERSONAL SPACE...IT IS MY WORLD...MY LEARNING...MY THOUGHTS.....WHAT I LEARNED FROM THE NET..SOME NICE ARTICLES FROM OTHERS...I do not write for others..if you want to read..it is fine but this blog is not meant for any discussions...
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The Birth Of India's Soul
B R Ambedkar, With steady hand, Crafted justice for a divided land. With ink and thought, Through day and night, He shaped a future...
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