Flesh ages and wrinkles,
Skin stretches and sags.
The ones we love grow old and die.
Man and nature are imperfect,
Yet the masterpieces of artists are “flawless”.
The trees rot, flowers fade until
Our dying day. While buildings, paintings,
And art, Works of all kind will last throughout
All time. But you cannot interact with urns
Or Walls. What awe is in a can of Campell’s
Soup? What wonder is in bricks and mortar?
What good is beauty with no one to
Share it with?
This was a response to Ode on a Grecian Urn and Sailing to Byzantium. I disagree with the assumptions of both. They both find more life in a piece of art than in life itself. Whereas, a piece of art such as a poem even, or a painting can be viewed so many different ways, what is the purpose of those views if not to be argued or shown to others. Other people and nature are more works of art than any thing created by man’s hands. Anything.