Days are dark, Nights bright, Ghosts dance to macabre tunes, Learned ones hide in closet, Blind followers on rampage, Traders of death on streets, Inferno from libraries touching sky, Things fall apart on my earth. The day is cloudy And I am a bit moody Things fall apart As my mood plays its part. Have things fallen apart for you where you struggled to make sense of the whole, but found yourself going down a hole instead? The title of your poem today is the title of Chinua Achebe's 1958 novel Things Fall Apart. This title in turn is borrowed from W.B. Yeats's poem The Second Coming.
