In 1836 Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American philosopher, essayist, and poet, wrote an essay called "Nature" which was prefaced by this little poem:
A subtle chain of countless rings
The next unto the farthest brings;
The eye reads omens where it goes,
And speaks all languages the rose;
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.
I was reminded of this poem when my friend Joe Pastry sent me this link to an article about the H1N1 flu in the L.A. Times:
It appears that this virus is not quite as bad as was originally feared and lacks a component of the 1918 flu that killed so many people worldwide. There is still a danger, however, that because it came at the tail end of the flu season it will evolve and re-emerge in October in an invigorated state as it "mounts through all the spires of form". Here in Irapuato we have been blessed that it has not reared its ugly head but the people and the local government are taking many precautions. I hope and pray that this plague passes quickly and I pray that God spares all of my friends out there in "Bloggerlandia" and sends this hateful virus back down to Hell with the Devil where they both belong.
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