As it’s monday I tend to look for inspiration, inspiration to get me motivated for the next week. Sometimes I look to poetry, there’s a lot of power in poetry. NEVER underestimate the power of words. What I like about poems is that they have a general interpretation, but there is still room for your own interpretation and opinion. Such is the following poem as well. It’s written by welsh poet Dylan Thomas and his poems seem rather dark or the subjects of his poems are. But I think in the beauty of his words, you can find an explanation of what’s good and what’s evil.
In this poem it’s rather dark endings, but I doesn’t have to be so in my opinion. Work hard and you will be rewarded.
It’s the beginning of a New Year and we all have to start at the beginning. No matter how last year ended, you have to continue. Every succes has a beginning and beginnings are tough, but at the end there’s light. I strongly recommend reading a poem once in a while, just give it a go!
In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face;
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun;
And, burning ciphers on the round of space,
Heaven and hell mixed as they spun.
In the beginning was the pale signature,
Three-syllabled and starry as the smile;
And after came the imprints on the water,
Stamp of the minted face upon the moon’
The blood that touched the crosstree and the grail
Touched the first cloud and left a sign.
In the beginning was the mounting fire
That set alight the weathers from a spark,
A three-eyed, red-eyed spark, blunt as a flower;
Life rose and spuoted from the rolling seas,
Burst in the roots, pumped from the earth and rock
The secret oils that drive the grass.
In the beginning was the word,the word
That from the solid bases of the light
Abstracted all the letters of the void;
And from the cloudy bases of the breath
The word flowed up, translating to the heart
First the characters of birth and death.
In the beginning was the secret brain.
The brain was celled and soldered in the thought
Before the pitch was forking to a sun;
Before the veins were shaking in their seive,
Blood shot and scattered to the winds of light
The ribbed original of love. – Dylan Thomas