The Prologue: Thoughts on the Miniseries

[workerbee73.livejournal.com]

The dove descending breaks the air
With flame of incandescent terror
Of which the tongues declare
The one discharge from sin and error.
The only hope, or else despair
    Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre-
    To be redeemed from fire by fire.

Who then devised the torment? Love.
Love is the unfamiliar Name
Behind the hands that wove
The intolerable shirt of flame
Which human power cannot remove.
    We only live, only suspire
    Consumed by either fire or fire.

 

T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets, Little Gidding, IV

 

It is a day of endings, and in ending, we find the beginning. An opportunity for destruction, an opportunity for rebuilding. Tear down and burn off what doesn't work—reduce to a manageable number, a manageable size to restructure humanity for purposes of blending with the Other (although the Other doesn't know it yet, and the humans would be none too happy if they figured it out this soon, but everything in it's own good time, right?)

 

The stage is set, the play's just begun.
 

( Fire or fire. )