Forwarded from Corpse World Monologues
“The average age for men in the Bronze Age was 18 and, in the Roman era, 22, Heaven must have been beautiful then. Today it must look dreadful. When a man reaches 40, he has no chance to die beautifully, No matter how he tries, he will die of decay. He must compel himself to live.”
+ Yukio Mishima
+ Yukio Mishima
Forwarded from Chadistan
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
Recessional
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle line,
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word—
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Rudyard Kipling (1897)