Nature In Poetry, Poetry In Nature

An essay on Nature as a reflection of us.

'Art imitates life', the line is well known to artists of all kind not least of which poets.It is by all means an accurate definition, at least of certain poetry, but how accurate is it as a guide line?

Is the concept of 'life' to vague to ever learn from? What is life? How does one imitate it if we are unsure as how to live it? We live because we live we do not lead nor follow life, so where does one begin to imitate it?

Imitation in itself is an unecessary and misleading term.Why should an artist imitate when he could feel? Feelings come from endless sources but in the end they are always more ours more than anything else.

So where should one start his quest for art? What one must feel? Where better than in our personal reflection in the celestial mirror: Nature.Every emotion we feel, every sorrow, anger, love, regret, all are reflected in Nature.Not least of which in the act of creating.This is what makes all art noble and divine; in our humble way we try to create beauty in the same way Nature does! Golden waterfalls are her verses, the abstract patterns of rocky beaches are her brush strokes, the unending tales told in the rain are her novels.All that is us is nature, all that is nature is us.What better muse could one have? Just as lovers are inspired by their love in which they find familiarity, serenity and happiness, so one is inspired by Nature that makes us serene in her familiar happiness.

Even the most personal of poet can relate to Nature.For she always shows us what we wish to see even when we do not know what we desire.Nature is a Mother but she is also our eternal Friend.She consoles, relates, delights and inspires.

The world we live in is straying further and further from Nature, and like a malignant son that rebels against his protective mother, we are forgetting what we are.It is for this reason that true art today is dead.Do not allow yourself to be fooled by the false aspirations, tears, sorrows, joys, of fake artists.They can be easily sniffed out; they do not feel what they write, they write what they feel, which can never reach Nature for one is writing for selfish reasons.Art, like love, must be selfless; we give our all to Nature and Nature we give us an inner heaven.Despite the estrangement with the natural world and all its kingdoms, Nature is still easy to find.We must not look for her, we must allow her to find us.Then we open our bleeding hearts upon her altar of wisdom.

Nature is the feeling to be found anywhere hidden in everywhere.