Day 57
The Second Renaissance
Day 57. Tuesday 12th June 2018
I am joined again today by my very special guest poet, Alia Mirdita, at seven years old a poetic star of the future. See her poem below.
The Second Renaissance.
© 2018 Steve Cook
Do you remember the Renaissance?
Maybe you were there
But have long since forgotten,
As time and rebirth
Moved quickly on.
For sure, they have borne you,
Like a torrent restless in its essence,
To new adventures,
Pausing only long enough
To contemplate new mischief
For our species that navigates
The centuries rudderless
And without a compass.
But whether you lived it or
Read it in a book or
Heard about it in passing,
When you look at the truth of it,
Nobody in it knew it while
It was happening.
Only with hindsight did history
Record its fame,
The fanning of the flames of creation,
The flowering of art that bears its name.
But look where it led us, once started,
Behold what followed in its train.
Civilisation was born again.
Art became the midwife
Of myriad new ideas,
Kindled the spark that woke science
From its superstitious slumber,
Freed thought from its orthodox cocoon
So that it grew wings and flew
In and out of trouble.
Thus we arrived at our
Present time of marvels,
Where miracles are taken for granted
And prodigious advances
Are so commonplace
They pass unremarked.
But look again!
For a Second Renaissance is upon us!
It has already started.
Arts in old and new forms are
Evolving in profusion,
In partnership with science,
In alliance with man's undying dream
Of dreams come alive to quicken
The dead matter of dying suns,
Or enliven the drab humdrum
Of existence with th'audacious
Brush strokes of imagination
And artists in unprecedented
Numbers are stoking the beacon
Of creation.
We're in the Second Renaissance,
Living in it, if we could but
Waken to see it,
So up-close and personal
Nobody's noticed.
And somewhere up ahead,
The future promises to remember us
For that accomplishment.
Just as marvels unimaginable
Were birthed by the midwifery of
The First, The Second we are
Living now bodes well for
The shape of things to come.
Man is about to be reborn once more.
Tuesday
© 2018 Alia Mirdita
The very next day
Is the start of May.
It is raining outside
So I go on a train ride.
I get a pet turtle
Whose name is Fred.
He has a little brother called Ed.
I go to the farm
And play in the hay.
Then I heard a horse say "neigh"!
I go to bed and
I go to sleep
And now I'm sad.