|Keep It Simple, Stupid|
I very much enjoyed your interpretation. I wrote this about a month ago now and had been focusing more on how to create a program that reinforced the poem (still debatable as to whether or not I succeeded — maybe a closure?) Your comment became a topic of conversation as I drove my wife to work and revisited the poem with her — so thank you. :)
What I think makes the intention unclear is the equating of 'storms' with pain. For me, storms actually define both good and bad. Sometimes they can overtake one another and that day the painful ones were more dominant in my thoughts. I had also been thinking a lot about the writing of Jorge Luis Borges who sometimes examined the infinite both outward and inward (The Library of Babylon is one example). So I tried combining the two concepts into one poem.
I can see if one looks at 'storm(s)' and stillness as interdependent siblings the poem is a little off. Since I focused here on an incomplete equating of 'storms' with pain it makes how I visualzed the relationship confusing. The storm of a terminal illness in a family is an example that fits the description in the poem. As we know there are also storms like the wave of inspiration that hits a composer driving the artist to create one of thier greatest works.
I started seeing storms as inherintly coming from within. The more examination and the deeper one digs the more of these storms we find. Within ourselves, nature etc. You are correct (at least as I'm concerned) in saying they are mutible (fickle) and always replaced by another. (Usually even creating the one that will replace them.) There are ALWAYS storms.
When I look outward there always seems to be an encompassing structure. This 'stillness' compliments the energy of the storm and simultaneously 'contains' those storms. A galaxy containing stars and planets. Our emotions kept in check by responsiblities bigger than ourselves. Yet if I examine it further sometimes the results of those storms are the very thing containing the new ones. The storms become the stillness.
As you can see I'm still figuring out how to paint the relationship. ;) The poem(s) and art are just excercises that show the progress in my thinking. Sketchbook work.
Thanks again for your thoughts.
"...the adversities born of well-placed thoughts should be considered mercies rather than misfortunes." — Don Quixote