Topic: No Man Is An Island

[Nichi]

No Man Is An Island
by John Donne

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

[Michael]

If I've read that before, which I'm sure I have, then I can't recall it.
What strikes me is how the poem as a whole completely changes the meaning of the famous last two lines, when taken alone. Typically used to presage one's own death, it actually speaks of that part of ourselves which dies when another is called through the veil.

It is a sentiment that distinguishes itself significantly by the fact of its total rejection by our current global culture.

[Nichi]

It is a sentiment that distinguishes itself significantly by the fact of its total rejection by our current global culture.

Definitely. Interrelatedness and interconnectedness? Not the accepted point of view, you are right.

[runningstream]

interrelatedness and acceptedness

i just got off the phone

the television echos my sentiments

the dog snaps at a mouse as it found an opening outside

after i have watched it climb the edge looking for out

can't say im not glad

after tell tale pills arrived a day or two ago

maybe they scared this mouse away

as the rain may have brought it in

strange scquirping sound

and birds that know they are being spoken of

lungs that wash them self of them self

cut grass

the large moon s horizon

growing puddle swolen earth

one l feels right

a hand that reaches for the correct glass by feeling

and i know i know i know i know

wish i had more to say

a cup of tea

wisdom washing the shore

engage

planetary polarity integration experiment

what a strange phrase

engage

so much water passed

bubbles rising up

she the wind spoke of a song

which went to its attractive proposition

moments after the passing whistle of its

own recognition of advancing tune upon itself

i made fun and point to the middle and wait for the slap

again

stand in the middle with me

and turn the hat

towards the wind yet with recognition towards the advancing song

love movement

passed water i know you too well

old friend haunted well

bristling this way to that

breath gentle

wind song

hold me not

to come and go with this breath

it is fire for want

to give the birth

the child the wise

the serpent the dove

tempting ledge

throw myself off again

let myself off again

where fire for where art  thou gone to

time ashes ether

wind coming going

to where have i blown

i would pour the tea at another time

the voice says "love"

and i understand yet "journey " fee from obligation

to a wind song

the singer singing on

whistle well

time the grinder of the organ

sing well