Perfection
I had thought I lacked for time
and spent my days frantic,
as though life were a web
and death a looming spider, his
approach inexorable, his mouth
large enough to swallow whole
my ambitions.
I had thought I lacked for time
and spent my days frantic,
as though life were a web
and death a looming spider, his
approach inexorable, his mouth
large enough to swallow whole
my ambitions.
We’ve all heard the Chinese proverb, “Give a poor [wo]man a fish and you feed her for a day. You teach her to fish and you give her an occupation that will feed her for a lifetime.” It’s a great concept, one that is popular with those who are more free market-oriented–they like the notion of hand-me-ups instead of hand-outs–as well as with those who tend toward socialism, as they like the idea of empowering the poor.
This is an oversimplification, but one way to think about the Civil Rights Movement, especially from the mid-to-late 1960s, is that there were two philosophical approaches: Dr. King’s faith-based, inclusive, nonviolent strategy; and Malcom X’s Black Power, “the bullet or the ballot,” movement.
There is something to be said for purpose,
Is there not?
The lilac tempts the bee,
The politician seeks the voters’ approbation,
The poet pursues greatness;
Being a poet, and writing poetry, requires that one be capable of touching the taut, electric rope that connects the valleys and hills of Earth with the horizons and vastness of sky and space, and that one do so without recoiling from the pain or being overwhelmed by the view.
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