Live a poetic existence. Take responsibility for the air you breathe and never forget that the highest appreciation is not to just utter words, but to live them compassionately.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

A Serene Sunday… Thoughts on Life, Nature and Poetry


It has been a beautiful weekend with magnificent weather, finally! I am feeling particularly strong mental and determined, despite some obstacles I must conquer this in the next few days, to have a wonderful week. A new found perspective on the joy of life is finally overwhelming my soul and I am making a conscious effort to do one thing a week that frightens me (yes, it’s a clique therapy goal but sometimes it ok to follow some psycho-babble bullshit once in a while). My life has been far too structured for far too long and it is time I start living my best life with serious intention and no expectations.

In the wee hours of the morning, sitting on my deck having a cigarette and watching the crimson sky transform into a lucid blue, William Wordsworth’s poetry popped into my head. His appreciation for natural world and ability to capture its imperfections inspires me to understand that beauty. The poem’s lyrical movement exemplifies the idea that poetry is an emotion engulfed in tranquility, where imagination is the key that unlocks the innermost depths of the human spirit; the imagination is best awakened by celebrating the wonders of nature.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By William Wordsworth


I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: -
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -and gazed -but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

No comments:

Post a Comment