Visual Poetry #24 (How Fleeting…Each passing Moment)

November 30, 2012 017

…while looking for a subject to shoot, I chanced upon this flower in its dying day…sadness washed over me…and, with pain in my heart, I thought of all my loved ones that went before me…i took this swelling emotion as an opportunity for me to creatively channel it by adjusting the setting in my camera to better express that emotion…and I opted for black & white to suit the mood of the moment…I walked away afterwards, went to a coffee shop and wrote this piece in my journal:

…there is emptiness in this longing heart…I thought we will still be together from dawn to dusk ten thousand times more…but here I am, walking and thinking…alone under the cold December rain…how fleeting…each passing moment…how fleeting…how fleeting…

…I guess the beauty of life in this earthly existence lies in the fleetingness of each passing moment…that’s how I look at it…


About Virgilio Gavia

Interests: poetry, photography, writing (prose and poetry), walking/hiking, reading (non-fiction and books of poetry) drinking coffee and herbal teas, camping, fishing, contemplating, solitude, silence, traveling, faded jeans, meaningful conversation, wabi-sabi, haiku, tanka, Jazz, Classical, oldies, all the books of Thomas Merton, Joseph Campbell, Thomas Moore, John O'Donohue, Mary Oliver, David Whyte, Mark Strand, ancient Chinese and Japanese poets, The Bible, spirituality, philosophy, psychology, sociology, history, humanities and the arts.
This entry was posted in autumn, Monochrome, Photo, Photography, Poetry, Prose, Ruminations, sentimentalism, Visual Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

16 Responses to Visual Poetry #24 (How Fleeting…Each passing Moment)

  1. A moving journal entry, and a beautiful image. The bokeh is so soft and lovely.

  2. I feel inspired by writing something like this as a journal. You have motivated to write now sir. 🙂

    I like your visual on this entry.

  3. damage says:

    inspiring, your photography is amazing VG

  4. arlene1027 says:

    just love your words…..

  5. Your last sentence overwhelms me. I feel the fleeting beauty of earth slipping through my fingers every day. It got so bad I felt my self squeezing tighter and tighter to each day. But now I have learned to let go and enjoy every day for what it is. Make the MOST of it! Your line reminded me of that old struggle I had and the victory I now hold over my self in finding peace with that agitation!

    • thanks, Jasmine, for the nice and insightful words…i think the key is acceptance and then surrender or letting go. there are things which are beyond our control and i guess the only way to go is to manage ourselves in relation to those which we cannot control, hoping of all hopes that everything will turn out to be fine. you are right about making the most of a situation whatever it is…all things shall come to pass anyway…just be in the moment… that in itself, the way i look at it, is a sweet taste of victory. appreciate you insightful comments.

      • Well I appreciate your insightful commentary. I am TRYING to learn acceptance. I think because I woke up as an adult in my 30’s I feel like I lost a lot of time. I think I will come to terms with this problem at some point! Maybe I’ll blog about it!

  6. qiquan says:

    There is a Chinese poem about the decaying flower:
    the falling of the flower shows no ending of her love,
    when she give up herself to the earth for the beauty of blossom.
    (my own translation)

    In this poem, the poet expressed his will to contribute to the society and the country even though he was not working in the central government anymore.

    For expressing the fleeting of the moment, there is another poem as follow:
    how similar to me the flowers that blossom in the spring of this new year, compared to the spring of last new year
    but how I miss a few faces that come to admire the beauty in the spring of the last new year, when they are not here anymore in the spring of this new year.
    (very difficult to translate)

    The poet’s name is Li Xiyi, born in 651 ac.


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