Wednesday, June 8, 2011

"...By the evening's amethyst..."




Things are made better when one looks, for a moment, between the castles, where trees hide the broken things and leaves dance when I tremble from a hole. Holes in things can fill and hugs help. I am blessed to have had a full day. I am reading a biography of Robert Louis Stevenson, called, Robert Louis Stevenson and His World by David Daiches with 99 Illustrations. It has been eye-opening and I keep mine open, in general. On pages 68-69 it tells how William Archer claimed that Stevenson could have never written A Child's Garden of Verses with such light, if he had ever truly had a difficult life. Everyone has a different experience and some of them are disappointing and some are fulfilling, but, in the end, they are real and what is. Stevenson is said to have responded with a way of seeing things that felt like I was reading one of my own journals... he lived this way... he was a "...pragmatist who accepted the universe not because it was the best of all possible worlds, but, because it was the only one he knew and therefore had to be made the best of." I have parents like this, friends like this, therefore, it is the best of all possible worlds, in some ways. I am blessed to see this glimmer. I am blessed to be reminded with little hugs from friend and family. So, in honor of a beautiful time, holes and all, a bit of a poem from the most wondrous year, 1913...




"...This is unborn beauty she now in air floats high and free takes the sun and breaks the blue late with stooping pinion flew raking hedgerow trees and wet her wing in silver streams and set shining foot on temple roof now again she flies aloof coasting mountain clouds and kiss't by the evening's amethyst in wet wood and miry lane still we pant and pound in vain still with leaden foot we chase waning pinion fainting face still with grey hair we stumble on till behold the vision gone where hath fleeting beauty led to the doorway of the dead life is over life was gay we come the primrose way." Robert Louis Stevenson




None of us are perfect; we all make mistakes. That is o.k. because we need not be. The sunset, the primrose, the hugs, are perfect enough for all of us. Not much else need be.

5 comments:

Castles Crowns and Cottages said...

AND THIS....is so liberating. To accept that we are NOT PERFECT, but to know that we are still greatly loved. How fabulous my dear, dear AMY! Anita

Such a Wondrous Place this Faery Space said...

Thanks, friend! Bon matin! Blessings to you.

mirsini's creations said...

Amy!! This is so beautiful poem!!! I can't understand all the words but i think i catch the meaning !!! You are a love fairy!!! I have something for you in my blog!!
Kisses :o)

Zuzu said...

How beautiful, Amy. What could be more perfect than a hug, a smile, a gentle touch? Thank you for sharing yours with all of us.
~ Zuzu

Christel Hutson said...

Beautiful post Amy, I apologize for not stopping in lately, so much going on always, but I will let this post serve as a reminder to me, at how very much I truly love my blog friends. Hope all is wonderful in your life. XOXO Christel