Sometimes the world is too much with us. Like when our oceans are pouring black blood, and uncomprehending animals are caught in a dark tide that ends their world, not with a bang but a whimper.
we feel we can do nothing but suffer with them, as the gorge rises in our throats like that black bile coming from the hellish belly of the earth. NO human effort seems worthwhile in such an atmosphere of despair.
Certainly no aesthetic enjoyment should be contemplated. Who are we to laugh, to smile, to think even, when we have perpetrated such horrors?
But yet, there is still love, and maybe there is hope, though I doubt it very much…..
On days like these, when the wind blows and the rain falls, as if sympathetic to our bootless despair, there is nothing to do but cry for a lost world.
But yet, there is still George Harrison, singing his heartbreakingly lovely “I Live For you,” the most melancholy yet gorgeous love song of all time.
But yet, there is the enormously comforting woody aroma of Tam Dao.
But yet, there are the arms of loved ones, quiet places in which to cry together on days like this.
But yet, there are humble gardens, wet and blown by winds, which can still be helped, can still respond to our care, which can show signs of improvement, which can assuage our guilt, and help us slowly forget. But should we?
Hellmouth image from folio 17r in Ms. 30 of the Los Angeles Getty Museum, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.