Angelus Novus

Midwives of horror, look to the sky at dawn The external vortex encircling us Hot whirling atoms split apart Smoking dust, chaos, darkness The process of transfiguring things into flames The rocky law of condemnation and double generation and death Like a river afraid to reflect, longing to reach its end Like men on a ship who walk in a direction opposite the one in which the ship is going The spill of accursed meridians, passing daily, one upon the next A single catastrophe piling wreckage upon wreckage A pile of debris growing skyward History delivered from the cloaca of time Angelus Novus