I’ve always thought words are the most powerful weapon. Poetry will most likely confirm this statement. But after reading “The Perfect Life”, it seemed like words had never made so much sense. A piece of writing has never touched my heart as much as this poem did. Reading it felt as pleasurable as tasting your favorite chocolate bar, and as overwhelming as watching a person die.
As I finished reading the poem, my face gestured angst like it has never done before.
I felt rigid,
stale,
faded.
Coincidentally, I was listening to Erik Satie’s “Trois Gymnopedies” while reading the poem for the first time. Words and notes coupled in perfection, the music seemed to capture the poem’s essence flawlessly. And as a sublime, impressionist master piece, the soundtrack served as a canvas for all the emotions the poem transmitted. Listening to the music truly enhanced the experience.
The poem alone reminded me of my father. Although he’s not a grim person, I sense he fells just like John Koethe. My still life painting was inspired on a reflection of his. Once I asked him about his major realizations in life, and he said, “You know when you have big dreams and aspirations, and you just sit throughout life, and then realize you’re too old to make them come true.”
All this makes me wonder about life in general. We are given a limited amount of time in this earth. What’s the perfect life then? Who said you can waste it? In the end it all comes down to being awake, and then not. Is there really a standard for living?
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