The Kali Yuga, the last of the four cosmological cyclic ages, represents the end of Nature. In the ancient Greek telling, the Ages devolve from Gold to Silver to Bronze to Iron. The Kali Yuga is the Iron Age, the Age of the Machine. In the Indian telling, the cow of dharma (righteousness) has but one leg left to stand upon; in the first or Golden Age, it had all four legs to stand upon; but existence has now become tenuous, doubtful- extremely precarious, and ridden with evil. Life itself is about to collapse.
As the Kali Yuga or Iron/ Machine Age approaches its denouement, Nature increasingly becomes a commodity that is bought, sold and exploited until, at the end of the Kali Yuga, it begins to break down and become destroyed- until it becomes incapable of sustaining life in any normal and natural manner.
This is the time we now live in. Technology and the cult of Progress- the ideology of the Machine Age, no longer believes in, or has any use for, Nature. Nature has been completely abandoned in favor of diabolical reason- the inversion of true intellect.
William Blake, writing at the beginning of the Industrial Age, was the first Western poet and prophet to articulate the degeneration we are now collapsing into. The cult of Progress now earnestly embraces collective suicide. This is our glorious and emphatic Kool-Aid party to end all parties!
But even as Nature is humiliated and exploited, ravaged, and the close of the Kali Yuga approaches in the dissolution of the Universe in mahapralaya, divine love is the bridge into a New World and Golden Age that will triumph brilliantly.
Jerusalem
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.
William Blake
