I woke up a little before 4 AM . Sleep wasn’t coming back so I activated this glowing portal on the world.
Moloch ascendant, I thought: black people are killing their little, little children, as well as each other, at an amazing rate. I started opening some of the sites Powerline lists as “Our Favorites”. Murder is pandemic. And the pandemic is murder: Covid will destroy our economy (and that means many deaths from poverty) whether we strangle commerce to control the murrain, OR we let it rage. China is our enemy AND we have no choice but to sit down and sup with it. There is nobody coming if you call for help, AND you never had any right to expect protection in the first place. In less than six months our cities have become Sodom. The weakest, the “most vulnerable”…don’t ask whether they must be “protected“, when the reality is they’re being gratuitously assaulted in our streets, in their senescence as well as their infancy. Bring them out, “that we may know them”. Knowledge is power. And power is brutal.
At least God The Creator never sleeps. He doesn’t have to endure waking up to the awful revelations crowding back in on us after the brief respite of cyclic oblivion. His is the all-seeing lidless eye, burning out at us from every dollar bill. Does He smile His work to see?
I can’t imagine, now, not having access to this little personal God’s eye. What was it even like, before we could not choose but see the whole world at once? Because once that is possible, how can you not do it? “And now good morrow to our waking souls/Which watch not one another out of fear..” Yes, I dimly remember it used to be like that: “..one little room an everywhere”, as Donne goes on to write in the same poem.
“East and West will pinch the heart/That cannot keep them pushed apart./And he whose soul is flat, the sky/Will cave in on him by and by.”
—Edna St Vincent Millay, from Renascence
Good morrow to your waking souls, O Ratty!