Friday, 25 July 2014

The Blue Depth of the sky

My blog is named in honour of W.B. Yeat's poem The Magi:


Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,
In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones
Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky
With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones, 
And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,
And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,
Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,
The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

Yeats and Shelley both, in their intense and beautiful poetry, convinced me that for me that poetry works well as a creative outlet. It helps me form opinions and think on topics, rather than be swayed by common wisdoms and countenance. The images created in these short pieces, mysticism and occult entwined are so removed from life now, and so rebellious at the time they were written. 


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