This made me think of the story about The Metro, of how we have to be looking, be listening, be present and be receptive in order to see and acknowledge and be touched by the beauty that surrounds us, all of us are guilty of missing out and likewise all of us have been missed out upon. Our appreciations vary, and our priorities with them, and for those things that have impressed us greatly, those things that we would consider so lovely it could not fail to touch those who embrace it, it can be a very strange reality to accept that another chooses to disregard the very opportunity. Literature as with people, the heart is limitless in what it is capable of holding, yet there are those and there are times when possible friends are turned away at the door. What is Shakespeare to one person and what is he to another. The Metro or the rose or the words upon a page, they sit, quiet, still, waiting, patiently, unchanging, a gift to those who choose to listen, smell, read, to be touched. Loved this.
You made me grin. My take on this poem was simple - if people fail to notice the greatness of those Greats, then I am in good company :D Very clever, whether that was the intention when written or not.
I will say, your interpretation is perfectly valid and one that gives me comfort too. I've yet to read War and Peace or Anna Karenina, although I own both. And I keep telling myself I will someday. :-)
Glad to make you smile. I wouldn't blog otherwise. :-)
4 comments:
This made me think of the story about The Metro, of how we have to be looking, be listening, be present and be receptive in order to see and acknowledge and be touched by the beauty that surrounds us, all of us are guilty of missing out and likewise all of us have been missed out upon. Our appreciations vary, and our priorities with them, and for those things that have impressed us greatly, those things that we would consider so lovely it could not fail to touch those who embrace it, it can be a very strange reality to accept that another chooses to disregard the very opportunity. Literature as with people, the heart is limitless in what it is capable of holding, yet there are those and there are times when possible friends are turned away at the door. What is Shakespeare to one person and what is he to another. The Metro or the rose or the words upon a page, they sit, quiet, still, waiting, patiently, unchanging, a gift to those who choose to listen, smell, read, to be touched. Loved this.
Yes, the concept is the same, although I am approaching it from the other side. The Metro was a wonderful story and I thank you for sharing it.
You made me grin. My take on this poem was simple - if people fail to notice the greatness of those Greats, then I am in good company :D Very clever, whether that was the intention when written or not.
Jen, a gentleman never tells. :-)
I will say, your interpretation is perfectly valid and one that gives me comfort too. I've yet to read War and Peace or Anna Karenina, although I own both. And I keep telling myself I will someday. :-)
Glad to make you smile. I wouldn't blog otherwise. :-)
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