Return of the Dim Comet

Something was going on that year.
There was a darkness in the air,
Not necessarily in acts

Of war, natural disasters,
But a loathing threading music
And the culture generally.

You can hear it echo now,
Although you’re not sure what that means.
Is this just another random

Darkness wafted in translation,
Or this time does it bring something?
That old loathing was just waiting

Like an omen before its time,
All grown-up now, now a portent.