by Percy Shelley
Dar’st thou amid the varied multitude
To live alone, an isolated thing?
To see the busy beings round thee spring,
And care for none; in thy calm solitude,
A flower that scarce breathes in the desert rude
To Zephyr’s passing wing?
This poem exactly describes what kind of person I want to be, and every day I’m requiring myself to live in this way, as a flower that scarcely breathes in the desert.
Acrylic on Canvas
400mm X 600mm