There are a few varying degrees of thought about the act of contemplation. For instance, from a Platonic philosophical view, contemplation might actually be necessary for the soul to ascend to some form of good or other divine form.
In different religions contemplation is synonymous with meditation and/or prayer. There’s even a stone statue by Albert Toft called “The Spirit of Contemplation” where a person appears to be slouching…even on the verge of reclining…in a very fancy chair. And you’ve probably seen the famous “Thinker” statue or at least a copy somewhere. And it seems many have spent hours contemplating what the “Thinker” might be contemplating.
I said all this because once upon a time there was a poet who spent a few brief moments next to a meadow enjoying a blue, spring sky. Taking pen to paper this poet wrote about what he saw and combined it with what he had been mulling over that day. And the result was…
Contemplation
There was nothing but a pretty, blue sky…
But then a redbird joined the high.
Always, there’s nothing that’s alone.
How can there be a heart of stone?
That’s why I contemplate:
Why does anybody hate?
If they would only wait for an answer,
They would find
There are some who are kind.
They’re standing right behind to lend an answer.
There was nothing but a pretty, clear brook…
But then someone wrote about it in a book.
Always, alone shall gather friends
With joy that lasts and never ends.
That’s why I contemplate:
Why does anybody hate?
If they would only wait for an answer,
They would find
There are some who are kind.
They’re standing right behind to lend an answer.
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