constant change
in the past i hated poetry. i considered it the epitome of emotions, sentimentality, and un-reasonableness. i hated that poets wanted me to feel something. never ever, had you asked, would i have said i there was a chance i'd like poetry.
guess i was wrong. i've been finding lots of stuff that i like lately. longfellow, byron, james russell lowell, abigail, emily dickenson, even the largest surprise of all...shakespeare? where has my head gone? now there is still much that is too sticky for me. but overall, i appreciate poetry.
it's crazy, how people change.
change is the one constant in life. this i know well. right now, it seems like everyone around me is in a season of major change. shiftings. while i just keep sailing on, ripples of change from their lives bumping into my ship & floating past with little effect. while i make no ripples of my own.
i actually like it.
seasons. sunsets and dawnings, tides coming in and out.
i wish i could write poetry. a poem would get what i'm thinking onto paper with more cohesiveness.
Comments
I know what you mean about staying the same while people around you change... I feel like that sometimes, and I used to feel like that all the time. I just read a book though, that had a prominent middle-aged character, and it got me thinking about how long our lives are, and how things will be looking back. And in some way, it kind of made me less worried. Lately I'd kind of been thinking like, "I need to get this and this done by so and so time..." But the book just made me think how our lives are really pretty long, and things are going to change eventually no matter what, and so I thought, maybe it isn't a terrible thing to stay the same for a while?
I don't know. Sorry about the post of a comment, it had just kind of been on my mind lately.