Poetry - Burnt Norton by T.S Eliot

Burnt Norton (Interlude) 

This week went so fast, and now it's already weekend. It makes me think how fast the times goes by and that certain things change every second without me thinking about it. But there are certain things which never change, and still remain the same. I have always loved art and had a great interest in philosophy and science since I was very young. When I got introduced to science and philosophy as a child I found it so interesting and I knew that I wanted to devote all my life for it. I have always been interest in philosophy, why we are on this earth and what the meaning of life. I grew up in a very beautiful place, I can't describe you how wonderful and peaceful this place is with beautiful floral fields and trees, and the first thing which came to my mind was how on earth can someone create something so beautiful.

It inspired me to to create a world that I found beautiful. I found out quickly that philosophy and science were linked to one another. When you are learning, at some point you are inspired to create. So before I got into the world of Fashion ( a wonderful world of art and creativity) I got into writing and poetry. I discovered poetry which discussed philosophical aspects and science. It inspired me to start writing my own poems about what I know, what I have experienced and what interested me. I have collected a couple of poems which I find beautiful and interesting. One of the poems that I really love is Burnt Norton by T.S Eliot. I first heard about it in High School Jr. I haven't read it for a very long time, but when Lana Del Rey read a little bit of the first part for her upcoming album Honeymoon I was so happy and it definitely brought back a lot of memories. Here is a part of the poem. Isn't it beautiful?!

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.

But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.

Diana