Whitmanesque

The following is not quite an essay, entirely its all I have on hand. It is an assignment from my English III H. class-we were to spell out out poems in the style of Whitman. It illustrates his use of cataloging, metaphors, natural inspiration, and the gleaning of a inspired truth. The First Sacred Thing It is sunset on the counterbalance eve of spring. The mellow glowing orb descends in in arrears and stately majesty; green orb swims in melon phosphorescence. Some songbird sings his commencement exercise celebratory song, pirched in the still-bear armor of winter oak trees. The slightly moist earth fills my nostrils with its warm, musky scent. A lone tulip tree stands against a terra firma of green. I secure my self in the temple standardized dome of the bright blue sky. My body is the pillar of a Corinthian oak; my breathing room is the gentle breeze. My scent is everywhere. I am merging, melding, losing identity operator at bottom of the inning the e ssential oneness of the world. My earthly body nearly cries upon beholding the beauty of pastel melon wrapped around the slender waist of day. Certainly I am lacking in proper respiration. Nonassumingly, without pretense and without clause, as beautiful souls argon apt(predicate) to do, the attenuation light so steals my adoration. I am merging, melding, losing my identity within the oneness of the world. My blood quickens as the bird-chatter rises and the night loosens the berka of her secrecy. I am losing myself in the utter ecstasy of this nature-dance. I am entirely a servant to the great cosmic gods, to the everlastingly spin cycle of the years. Be I as oak or ash or even slight willow, m y will and my power is in upholding this, in being this, the first heavenly thing. I am losing myself in the realisation of nescient godliness! The shrubs are my brothers and the grass is my father. natural am I of the union of matter and Quintessence.

Oh, the inner Divine so does sing. Born am I of this first sacred thing. As are you born. Join with me, dance with me, sisters and brothers, children of the ultimate divinity within. fashion as fluid pillars-not of law but of love, for in cipher but love may this trueness be known. As I glance from tree to tree, from earth to sky, I physically chance the energies and the thoughts of these beings. They are sentient beings. They are of mea s I am of them. They too are born of the first sacred thing. A silver March crescent moon has slipped up beside me in the periwinkle sky. Behold, Behold! she says. For we, we are the first sacred thing, and in losing yourself-you have found me. If you want to get a all-encompassing essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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