frost, one
I'm pretty sure you must have heard of this American poet called Robert Frost. Some of my favourite poems have been written by him.
These verses from "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Night" are one of my all time favourites. As someone who loves stopping and staring at pretty spots in nature, or just you know, watch the golden sunlight make the flowers in our garden shine, these verses were quite relatable.
While I was painting today, I thought of a little deeper interpretation than just not having enough time to simply sit in the lap of nature.
The woods seemed to me a metaphor for the darker reaches of the mind, which have off late been very tempting. And while I'd love to just stop and take my time getting lost in there, I have so much more to do before the final sleep that is death comes to me.
It also seemed like a metaphor for the past. For memories that seemed worth remembering and for all those little jewels I've hoarded in there. But I can't go on living in the darker corners of my mind palace. The forest of memories ought to be made forbidden just like the woods in Hogwarts I suppose.
If I stayed there, I probably wouldn't get to prepare for the final sleep. And I'm already running out of time.
We all are.
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