living in poetry, as possibility

i don't know if i've ever read a more poetic painting of poetry than emily dickinson's "i dwell in possibility." so inspiringly illustrated and gorgeously evoked, the power of this literary form is praised at its height...i imagine this palace of poetry-- wide open, flooded with a delicious golden glow through its infinite windows and doors and its celestial ceilings...is there anything more paradisal?





I dwell in Possibility – (466)

by Emily Dickinson

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –


if this doesn't convince a person that life should be lived in the colors of poetry, that it CAN be lived in such a way, then i don't know what will...

today, i intend to dwell, at the very least, in its possibility...