Aching for Acre, in a sacred ague,
They’re setting out. They wear only their nightgowns,
These ageless androgynes, these little angels
Who raise their wooden swords and hymns of glass.
They’re saying how the journey there will be
A stroll between aquariums reviewing
Divisions of moray and scorpionfish,
The laughing seahorse cavalries of heaven,
Jerusalem like candy on a shelf
A child on a child on a child
(All three on tiptoe) might just reach, and God
Himself the next shelf up. Their smallest soldier
Shoulder by shoulder climbs the swaying tower
And gets his hands around a jar of ashes.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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