Philosopher Dog: I Found Myself Astray
In the middle of the journey of our life
I found myself astray in a dark wood
where the straight road had been lost sight of.
– Dante, translated by Seamus Heaney
Was it in a tunnel in the North Woods that I found myself astray?
Where am I? Where am I going?
Sometimes I stop what I’m doing, and think.
Then I grow pensive among the asters.
I ruminate by ancient roots.
I reflect by still waters.
Does beauty change the meaning of a gate?
I believe nobility takes many forms.
I know beauty does. Sometimes it flames out, like ‘shining from shook foil.’
And sometimes there’s beauty in the gutter.
Or in an old tree stump.
But what is beauty?
Is there beauty in death?
I wonder, am I a dog dreaming he is a philosopher, or a philosopher dreaming he is a dog?
I can’t always tell reflection from reality.
It’s time to get moving again. But where to? I’ll choose a direction, and start walking.
I’ll go this way. Why not?