“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
-Dead Poet Society
This week felt overwhelming good. It felt like I completed a five thousand piece puzzle of a distorted image that doesn’t resemble anything recognizable. It felt like a never ending celebration. I felt time fall into place. I felt resilient. I felt at peace and validated with all the reasons of these seasons. I may not know what my verse will be just yet, but I know it will be a great one. A verse of truth and how it came to be. A verse of my truth and how I overcame to be.