Of Mere Being
by Wallace StevensThe palm at the end of the mind,Beyond the last thought, risesIn the bronze distance.A gold-feathered birdSings in the palm, without human meaning,Without human feeling, a foreign song.You know then that it is not the reasonThat makes us happy or unhappy.The bird sings. Its feathers shine.The palm stands on the edge of space.The wind moves slowly in the branches.The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
This is one of those poems that people read over and over trying to capture the relevance of it to their own lives. Have you found something that is meaningful to you in these few verses? Appreciating the imagery could be enough.