An Exploration of Sacred Parenting and Education

Finite Infinity

In poetry on February 1, 2012 at 9:16 pm

It is said a great poet (somebody remind me of his name please) at the time of Muhammed pbuh was asked why he stop reciting poetry. The Arabs at the time were proud of the eloquence and this oral culture was rooted in poetry. The poet replied ‘abad al Qur’an’? After the Qur’an? Such is the beauty and majesty of the Qur’anic Arabic that it can leave its listeners, especially the Arabs of the time, awe stroke, dumbfounded and shaken to their core.

I had a taste of that feeling today when I heard some poetry by Emily Dickinson. So filled with soul, she is said to have lived with a certain eccentric madness, Plato spoke of. I was touched by ‘I died for beauty’ but silenced totally by ‘solitude’

There is a solitude of space
A solitude of sea
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be
Compared with that profounder site
That polar privacy
A soul admitted to itself --
Finite infinity.


Finite Infinity. What a beautiful paradox! Saints would taste that. I see it as a description of children. Do you see it too? I have much to write- but I prefer the space of silence to allow the poem to fly in….

“ Had we the first intimation of the Definition of Life, the calmest of us would be lunatics! ” ~ Dickinson in a letter to cousins ~
  1. I think there is often an ocean in Emily Dickinson’s poems. I like this one:

    I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
    And Mourners to and fro
    Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
    That Sense was breaking through –

    And when they all were seated,
    A Service, like a Drum –
    Kept beating – beating – till I thought
    My Mind was going numb –

    And then I heard them lift a Box
    And creak across my Soul
    With those same Boots of Lead, again,
    Then Space – began to toll,

    As all the Heavens were a Bell,
    And Being, but an Ear,
    And I, and Silence, some strange Race
    Wrecked, solitary, here –

    And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
    And I dropped down, and down –
    And hit a World, at every plunge,
    And Finished knowing – then –

  2. Thank you for sharing Daniel. I never thought I would meet a match for Ghalib (Urdu/Persian poet) in the English language until I came across Emily D.

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