File spoon-archives/bataille.archive/bataille_1999/bataille.9912, message 3


Date: Fri, 31 Dec 1999 00:20:12 +1030
Subject: A poem by my father...


Millennium
----------

When last you came the darkness fell,
another thousand years and still the spell
of number grips the minds of men.

Now,
no rough beast slouching, Revelation bringing
but subtle ghost to trembling usher in
the Unknown Age.

Ten bloody, heady, violent, brilliant centuries pass;
we rage and search and grow,
we burn our planet and our people and we know
that this will be a measure of our strength and of our weakness.

Red slops the carpet to the portal raven black,
beyond, the World unmade.

Youth in hope and innocence will stride unfettered through
The imagined threshold; age will stumble, dreaming of the past,
praying that the children on their battered stage
will build upon the debris, shame and shattered hopes
a third and golden Age.


Robin Pellen, March 1999



Luke Pellen
e-mail: luke-AT-seol.net.au
ICQ#: 25510475
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'Let us pray to God... the bastard! He doesn't exist!' - Samuel Beckett
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