Your poem brings to mind T.S. Eliot: "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
I am more like one of Eliot's Practical Cats - the not too bright one: -
Your words go so well with the remarkable wall hanging.
Thank you
Thank you.
Then there is A.E Housman's take in 'A Shropshire Lad': -
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blown:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
Yes, "the land of lost content," not easy to go through.
But we are resolute!
Your poem brings to mind T.S. Eliot: "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
I am more like one of Eliot's Practical Cats - the not too bright one: -
The mountain soared into the sky
The path did upward weave
And I set off with simple sigh
My friends behind did leave
I slowly climbed that rugged course
My vision fixed and fair
A pilgrim heading to the source
Of everlasting prayer
I climbed all day with ne’er a break
‘cept for some food and drink
And soon enough my joints did ache
Which caused me then to think
Can I go on, or should I stop?
Am I a mouse or man?
I feel I must attain the top
Or never climb again
So up and onward I did go
Determined and alone
With eyes ablaze and heart aglow
The path my steppingstone
But then upon that mountain path
My smile became a frown
For up ahead what drew my wrath
Was seeing me come down.
Meeting ourselves is never easy. Thanks, Brian.
It's not too bad - if we don't take ourselves too seriously.
I love this art piece and the poem you paired it with.
Thank you.
Of course.