There may be Chaos still around the World
by GEORGE SANTAYANA (1863-1952)
There may be chaos still around the world,
This little world that in my thinking lies;
For mine own bosom is the paradise
Where all my life’s fair visions are unfurled.
Within my nature’s shell I slumber curled,
Unmindful of the changing outer skies,
Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies,
Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled.
I heed them not; or if the subtle night
Haunt me with deities I never saw,
I soon mine eyelid’s drowsy curtain draw
To hide their myriad faces from my sight.
They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe
A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.
Philosopher, poet and humanist, George Santayana was born in Madrid, Spain in 1863. He was raised in the USA and considered himself an American. His principal concept was that all ideals have a natural basis. The only reality is matter itself and that all else arises from man’s experience of, and response to, matter.