The Whites of Our Eyes
It is a wise man who plants a tree in the shade of which he knows he will never sit.—Greek proverb
That vaingloriousGunmetal grey sky you keepSeeing in your mind’s eye? A revelation is at hand, carvedIn glorious black and white, With orders from on highTo plant it.
Wonderful, Vassilis. Your command of the English language and your ability to turn words into profound poetry never cease to amaze me.
ReplyDeleteIt was said of Jacob that his eyes turned white because of the sorrow that he chocked within him. If I were stuck in dark grayness, inherited or chosen, this poem would unglorify the vainness of the nagging fear of inconsequentionality that plagues us all from time to time. The revelation comes from listening, the orders from the self. Of the two gloriouses, the tree says to take the latter: you won’t live to enjoy the shade but it’s not who the tree shades that’s important; it’s that it gets planted.
ReplyDeleteHow a simple poem can wake a person up to start declouding the eyeview. Brilliant, Vassilis. Comme d’habitude. And thanks.
Elisabeth and Annie,
ReplyDeleteSuch generous comments as these embarrass me because I feel I am undeserving of them; on the other hand, it's immensely satisfying to hear that what I write touches some people enough for them to respond in such a manner that I am touched in return. Thank you both!