“The fear of dying is not just the terror of pain, the humiliation of the loss of faculties, the fall into the abyss . . . but the primeval fear that afterwards one might remember it.”

— The Affirmation

In Time of ‘The Breaking of Nations’

2026-03-26

Only a man harrowing clods     In a slow silent walk With an old horse that stumbles and nods     Half asleep as they stalk.

Only thin smoke without flame     From the heaps of couch-grass; Yet this will go onward the same     Though Dynasties pass.

Yonder a maid and her wight     Come whispering by: War’s annals will cloud into night     Ere their story die.

The poem’s title references Jeremiah 51:20

Thou art my battle axe and weapons of war: for with thee will I break in pieces the nations, and with thee will I destroy kingdoms. - Jeremiah 51:20

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