The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune,
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Afternoon meditation for the harried
A little Bill Wordsworth for your head -- ponder a leaf today, or a breeze or a sunset.
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2 comments:
So much shit there is, going on-
I mean, like- everywhere.
We buy, we sell, forgetting things of import:
Ignoring rainbows, forests and mountains of majesty.
We stand in line, (busy, busy) selling our souls to the highest bidder-
We watch too quietly as polar bears roam the changing tundra
and hot winds sear black oil atop our murky seas.
Jesus fucking Christ!
I'm thinking simpler times;
when movies made me feel okay;
when tomatoes tasted like.... tomatoes.
Strawberries were juicy and real red once, I think;
and the bad dude was dressed in black;
and Shane was there to fix it all
and the Beatles gave us the lighted message.
(Oh, wait. Didn't somebody already say this?)
A modern update--your "pagan suckled in a creed outworn," nurtured on Shane and the Beatles rather than Proteus and Triton. Literature, I say!
Mahalo, Island Chazwick. (But you didn't have to rub it in with the rainbows...)
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