Then I remembered why I loved her and asked her why I drove her off.
Two of the most thought-provoking and insightful lines even written may be found in Richard Eberhart’s “On a Squirrel Crossing the Road in Autumn, in New England.” Lines 15 and 16,
“It is what he does not know of God
Composes the visible poem of the World,” ignite a wildfire of thoughts on existence in the mind of the reader and created a beautiful comparison of poetry to creation.
The poem itself discusses a man passing along the road and nearly hitting a squirrel with his vehicle. Eberhart admires the squirrel’s purposefulness and obedience; “He obeys the orders of nature without knowing them.” This concept of one creature, larger and more powerful, man, watching and inadvertently deciding the fate of a smaller, less knowledgeable creature, a squirrel, creates an ideological parallel. The man is to the squirrel as God is to man. Just as the squirrel may not know what the roads that interrupt their forests are paved for or how the cities that disrupt nature came to be; man does not know how the world we dwell in was created or what the next environment after death may be like. The squirrel is ignorant for not realizing all that is happening around him or the how and why of his existence; and he is beautiful for still trying to live as best he can, to still fulfill his natural duties, without knowing whether or not it is the right thing to do. Man is beautiful for the same exact reasons. Of course, we have created religion and science to search for answers to theses questions; but there is no fact. There are billions of people that claim to know what happens in the next life and what events transpired to create this one, but there is not an agreement. That creates the beauty in the world. People are all allowed to think and create their own concepts and try their best to fill their natural duties. In a world where all the answers exist, no beauty would exist. For example, if Man knew all about creation and afterlife, then man would simply do the things necessary to achieve the best possible afterlife and believe in only what was proven fact. No faith would exist, no art would exist, and the very 2 lines of literature that this essay is based on would not exist. Our search for answers, our creations, our sciences, our religions, our concepts, our beliefs provide all of the things that make our world beautiful. These things create poetry, sculptures, paintings, novels, essays, discussions, and diversity. With all the answers given, our lives would be empty.
“On a Squirrel Crossing the Road in Autumn, in New England,” is one piece of beauty provided to the world, because the world lacks answers. Eberhart performed a God-like act, by writing this poem. He created something from nothing; he formed an immortal object. There is only one difference between the creation of our universe and the creation of the poem. We know the composer of the poem of, but we do not know the composer of the universe. A god or a benevolent force or a group of spirits or nothing at all may be moving the pen, but we are the muses, the inspiration. That omnipotent being keeps looking back and watching the beauty of the world unfold and perhaps deciding or just anticipating its next movement or product or adventure. What we know for now is that our human ignorance composes the visible poem of the world, for that poem is always ours and never ending.
“It is what he does not know of God
Composes the visible poem of the World,” ignite a wildfire of thoughts on existence in the mind of the reader and created a beautiful comparison of poetry to creation.
The poem itself discusses a man passing along the road and nearly hitting a squirrel with his vehicle. Eberhart admires the squirrel’s purposefulness and obedience; “He obeys the orders of nature without knowing them.” This concept of one creature, larger and more powerful, man, watching and inadvertently deciding the fate of a smaller, less knowledgeable creature, a squirrel, creates an ideological parallel. The man is to the squirrel as God is to man. Just as the squirrel may not know what the roads that interrupt their forests are paved for or how the cities that disrupt nature came to be; man does not know how the world we dwell in was created or what the next environment after death may be like. The squirrel is ignorant for not realizing all that is happening around him or the how and why of his existence; and he is beautiful for still trying to live as best he can, to still fulfill his natural duties, without knowing whether or not it is the right thing to do. Man is beautiful for the same exact reasons. Of course, we have created religion and science to search for answers to theses questions; but there is no fact. There are billions of people that claim to know what happens in the next life and what events transpired to create this one, but there is not an agreement. That creates the beauty in the world. People are all allowed to think and create their own concepts and try their best to fill their natural duties. In a world where all the answers exist, no beauty would exist. For example, if Man knew all about creation and afterlife, then man would simply do the things necessary to achieve the best possible afterlife and believe in only what was proven fact. No faith would exist, no art would exist, and the very 2 lines of literature that this essay is based on would not exist. Our search for answers, our creations, our sciences, our religions, our concepts, our beliefs provide all of the things that make our world beautiful. These things create poetry, sculptures, paintings, novels, essays, discussions, and diversity. With all the answers given, our lives would be empty.
“On a Squirrel Crossing the Road in Autumn, in New England,” is one piece of beauty provided to the world, because the world lacks answers. Eberhart performed a God-like act, by writing this poem. He created something from nothing; he formed an immortal object. There is only one difference between the creation of our universe and the creation of the poem. We know the composer of the poem of, but we do not know the composer of the universe. A god or a benevolent force or a group of spirits or nothing at all may be moving the pen, but we are the muses, the inspiration. That omnipotent being keeps looking back and watching the beauty of the world unfold and perhaps deciding or just anticipating its next movement or product or adventure. What we know for now is that our human ignorance composes the visible poem of the world, for that poem is always ours and never ending.