A basic problem in all Czesław Miłosz's poetry is the philosophical and artistic subdual of change, not only as observed on the surface of phenomena—in the ephemerality of human existence, in the succession of historical epochs or in the eternal cycle of nature—but also in the deep structure of culture, in the continual reassessment of signs, meanings and values. The poet doggedly labors to construct a dam of poetry on the Heraclitan river, a dam which is constantly undermined by the rapid currents of change. It is in this way that he also attempts to save himself from his own disintegration into oblivion and nothingness. Images of biological disintegration assault his imagination with too much insistence to treat them lightly. Tormented by the foreboding of the unavoidable catastrophe that threatens the world, Miłosz stands alone in the face of an indifferent cosmos and cruel history, which move across human fate with a destructive force akin to that of nature…. Miłosz is incessantly tormented by the hunger for values, the desire for affirmation, the need for support. Yet the only thing left him is a great insatiability, accompanied by the consciousness that it will never and in no way be sated. Nevertheless, he is not a poet who is insensitive to the beauty of nature or who denies the need for civilization's development: enraptured descriptions of the landscape of his native Lithuania and a respect for all remnants of the cultural past are eloquent testimony to this. In everything, however, he sees the germ of annihilation. Overpowered by the thought of passing, with nothing but emptiness in his heart, he experiences the acute absurdity of existence. Because how does one protect oneself from nature if her law is death, and how does one survive in history which blindly annihilates all individual and collective values?

This complex of problems and questions, formulated in Miłosz's prewar poetry but returning in all his work, is usually explained away as a manifestation of his catastrophic world view, which was born in the atmosphere of dread that preceded World War II and nourished by the economic crisis of those unsettling years that still resounded with the echoes of World War I. This, at least, is how Miłosz was read by the poets of occupied Warsaw: Krzyszt of Kamil Baczyński, Tadeusz Gajcy, Andrzej Trzebiński. From the perspective of the war … he was the one who foresaw, whose prophecy, unfortunately, was fulfilled. (p. 420)

[In] current criticism "catastrophism" has become a broad term encompassing various meanings. This term is most often used to designate the conviction that contemporary civilization is in a critical state…. The latest studies of the writings of Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz (or Witkacy) allow us to define this term more precisely. Catastrophism, then, is a conviction voicing the inevitable annihilation of the highest values, especially the values essential to a given cultural system or those having an elitist character….

Generally, one can say that catastrophism is a kind of historiosophic diagnosis postulated for contemporaneity which inevitably leads to a pessimistic conclusion. But it proclaims—and this is important—only the annihilation of certain values, not values in general, and the destruction of a certain historical formation, but not of all mankind. One civilization gives way to another, and the dying culture becomes fertilizer for the new one because projected historical changes are governed by a cyclical conception of time. The fundamental assumption at the basis of the catastrophic world view is the incompatibility of two mutually exclusive value systems. (p. 421)

In the light of the above remarks it is difficult to consider Miłosz a catastrophist. In spite of the fact that he transfers the laws of nature to history, his thinking lacks evolutionary change; he gives meaning to only one part of the evolutionary chain, exposing only its declining phase. In other words, the life of an individual or that of the species becomes the matrix of entire histories because they, like individual existences, are headed for inevitable annihilation. The poet of course detects the social conflicts of his times and shares his contemporaries' fear of war. But he expresses himself in a language of visions and symbols that have universal and timeless meaning…. The impending horrors of war are like those of all the preceding wars, they are only one of the components of timeless evil…. Old empires crumble, new ones arise, conflicting ideologies battle, cultures change, but the price is always the same: human suffering and the loss of peace and safety. The poet looks at history from a timeless perspective, an almost divine one. He voices the destruction of all values and all mankind, not just one of its historical or social formations.

It is probably for this reason that the values appearing in Miłosz's poetry cannot be broken down into two opposing systems. It is enough to compare his juxtapositions to those in Witkacy's work. On one side are life, youth, goodness, truth, ideal love, humility and beauty. On the other are death, old age, evil, lies, sensual love and pride. Miłosz's axiomatic system is therefore a monistic one. There is only one set of values, universal and eternal, and the opposite values represent their degradation or oppose them with anti-values. The poet does not assume, as the catastrophists do, that these values will be replaced by others, but rather that their lost power will be restored to them. And because their Christian provenance is unquestionable, one is amazed that vital, ethical and esthetic values are all placed in the same rank. It is very characteristic that Miłosz does not juxtapose heaven and earth, mystical flights of the soul and sinful temptations of the flesh. He believes, of course, in absolute beauty, goodness and truth, but this does not mean that the temporal is insignificant and that it is only a springboard to the transcendental. Nor does this mean that art is only a form of contact with the Absolute. It has a mediatory function: it should protect against change by proclaiming the beauty of the world and praising life, while at the same time unveiling the metaphysical underpinning of being. It's a little as if the poet in Miłosz were trying to reconcile the man with the moralist…. [The future Miłosz foresees], played out on a cosmic scale, will be the end of the world. Final and complete. History will reach its end…. In other words, eschatology replaces catastrophism. (pp. 421-22)

According to Christian eschatology, the history of mankind and of the world can be presented in the following way: chaos/paradise/gradual fall and return to chaos/Last Judgment/paradise restored. Although this cycle is clearly parallel to the abovementioned catastrophic cycle, there are some very sharp differences. The metaphysical perspective, the monistic system of values, the linear concept of time and the projection of a future positive utopia—these are all elements which are lacking in catastrophism. Their presence in Miłosz's poetry has been sufficiently proven, with the exception of the last element. (p. 422)

The poet says the least about the lost paradise of innocence. Its presence, or rather absence, is expressed in the nostalgia for simple and constant values, a nostalgia which is visible in the idealization of the poet's homeland…. This paradise is not a land of laziness and abundance, but one of joyous work, which eases harmonious coexistence with nature. This is true happiness of existence joined with rapture at the beauty of the world and a trusting faith in Providence. In other words, paradise is a collection and realization of all the values whose lack the poet constantly feels.

The second stage, the one shown most willingly, is expressed in condemnation of contemporary times as surrendered to the reign of Evil, in distress at the disintegration of ethics and in infernal visions. The presence of the third stage is announced by references to biblical images of the end of the world, especially the destruction of cosmic order…. In creating his artistic vision, Miłosz makes use of primal images, those that are most deeply imbedded in the collective subconscious. It is worth noting that fire, a frequent motif in Miłosz's poems, has so completely dominated the poet's imagination that the destruction of the cosmos is shown in the form of a gigantic conflagration. As Mircea Eliade writes, the motif of purification by fire is Iranian in origin and appears only once in the New Testament. It plays an important role, however, in the Sybil's forecasts, in stoicism and in later Christian literature. (pp. 422-23)

Allusions to the Bible were popular at the time [of the Źagary poets], indeed quite fashionable. Some poets, however, treated the Holy Book in a totally secular way, without any respect for its sacred character. In Julian Tuwim's "Ball at the Opera" or in K. I. Gałczyński's "The End of the World" apocalyptic motifs serve the ends of satire or entertainment. Not in Miłosz. He never deprives biblical themes of their religious functions: He is of the deep belief that after the catastrophe we will enter the last stage of world history, and then "the real will suddenly appear denuded."…

The Kingdom of God, which follows the Last Judgment, will be the unveiling of a new, unforeseen dimension of reality. It will be, as described in "The Gate of Morning," a full realization of values vital, moral and esthetic in complete harmony with nature and other people. Paradise will be one unceasing banquet of beauty, truth and love, of intoxication and awe at the restoration of man's place in the cosmos—a little as if those values had regained their lost, ideal form. This conviction will be expressed outright much later in the volume "From Where the Sun Rises," where the poet proclaims his belief in apokatastasis: that is, in the restoration of timeless duration to being….

The collection of images and beliefs connected with Christian eschatology constantly recurs in Miłosz's poetry and becomes an essential element of the poet's thought about the meaning and aim of all existence. The atmosphere of prewar trepidation, as well as feelings of at first indefinable and later completely obvious danger, influenced the genesis of Miłosz's poetic vision without a doubt. But one cannot reduce it to that alone, because the war, with all of its inhuman cruelty, introduced an additional factor into the composition of ancient religious images, supplementing them with a useful but not indispensable element. Some of the components of the catastrophic vision were only steps leading the poet to metaphysical generalizations. Formulating this paradoxically, I would say that even if the war had not broken out, Miłosz's poetry could still be decipherable in the light of the Apocalypse. (p. 423)

[Miłosz's vision of paradise appears as] a component of a deep desire, wish or even artistic creation deprived of the power and reassuring obviousness of a religious truth. This paradise, which is often an idealized Lithuanian landscape, is always eluding the grasp of the poet, fading in his memory, losing its contours. It is rather an expression of longing for a superior metaphysical order of being, for a just and final settling of the accounts of human destinies. But too enormous is the pressure of direct experience, too acute is the sensation of existential pain and historical irrationality for the longing to be merely longing. There is no certainty. The beautiful dream remains, a hypothesis worthy of attention and approval, a tempting illusion with which the poet would gladly identify but cannot accept to the end. He wanders continually and stubbornly seeks the radiant vision of the Garden of Eden. In other words, wanting to overcome his alienation and disapproval of contemporary times and to allay the need for absolute values, Miłosz translated his spiritual biography into a language of basic Christian concepts. But this translation was only partially successful, because it was lined with a modern skepticism and doubt in his own mission as a poet.

In all the criticism written up until today the main reference point, for polemical reasons, was Miłosz's prewar poetry, because it was to be proof positive that he espoused a catastrophic world view. However, the eschatological theme returns in his later poetry. It is worth noting that the image of paradise is superseded by images of Arcadia and blissful isles. These motifs, as old as Mediterranean culture …, appear in the "Shepherd's Song" written during the war…. After the horror of the Occupation, it would be sheer naïveté to think that one could sail out to blissful isles. Would it still be possible to think about paradise? The poet rejects the ancient idyll but, remarkably, cannot reject the belief in Ultimate Fulfillment…. The memory of paradise brings us to the reflection on the destruction of primal nature by contemporary civilization…. [But] Miłosz is far from repeating, after Rousseau, the naïve slogans about a return to nature's womb and its effect on reviving certain noble emotions. He knows well that force and cruelty reign in nature, albeit unconsciously. They would not have existed only in the biblical Eden, because there the laws of violence and death were in abeyance. (pp. 423-24)

Contemporary man rejects [paradise] scornfully as somewhat charming but unreal daydreaming. The sacred sphere loses its meaning or is reduced to a dimension of pitiable caricature. This belief is illustrated in the poem "How It Was" …, where Miłosz represents the earth as "the mighty power of counter-fulfillment" … where all hope in redemption is rejected and where one escapes the problems of existence by turning to the magic of narcotic stupor…. In spite of the fact that the myth is being more and more ridiculed and degraded, the poet cannot and will not deny it. He is still called "to an unattainable dell for ever shaded with words, where naked the two kneel and are cleansed by an unreal spring."

Miłosz thinks incessantly about the Judgment which awaits us. A poem written during the Occupation, "A Song on the End of the World" …, was recognized as an ironic summing up of his catastrophic poetic past…. But this poem has another, deeper meaning. The "Song" begins with words which create the illusion that nothing is in any way disturbing the daily rhythm. The Apocalypse, the poet notes, is not a moment preceded by signs on earth and in the firmament…. The end of the world is happening continually, because it is always possible and always present in another, sacred dimension of human history. Through being which is solid only on the surface glimmers death and final destruction. That is why "there will be no other end of the world." (p. 424)

[In "Oeconomic Divina," the] Last Judgment ceases to horrify the poet, because he sees in it a chance to rescue the meaning of existence. Denying the Judgment sinks reality into nothingness and the absurd.

From his diagnosis of contemporaneity the poet draws a conclusion similar to the one he makes in "The World (Naïve Poems)" …, where he refers to Thomist thought (as he admits): namely, that there is a supernatural order that exists in all of being, a homology of macro- and micro-cosm as well as a hierarchy of all existences, who find their only certain support and aim in God. In conclusion, it is possible to say that the reference to Christian eschatology in Miłosz's poetry has three functions: first of all, it makes existence meaningful even in change; secondly, it is an attempt to apotheosize modern history; and lastly, it returns poetry to its proper position. This, of course, does not mean that Miłosz has solved his existential problems once and for all. It is difficult to accuse him of naïveté or cheap metaphysics. Inwardly restless, constantly divided and doubting, he seeks without respite the answers to questions which, as he well knows, have no answers. It is for this reason that … "From Where the Sun Rises," as well as the entire volume of Utwory poetyckie—Poems, ends with the tragic admission: "I was judged for my despair because I was unable to understand this." (p. 425)