into the light [...] open, poetry

i o t a

[b]☾ IOTA [abbr="Oni speech, Oni thoughts, Oni reference"]x[/abbr] info [abbr="speech; self-reference; thoughts;"]x[/abbr] FIREBRAND ☾

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Poetry.

It was a type of literature that Iota enjoyed immensely, almost as much as prose. To her, poetry could inflect a message in the ways prose cannot; symbolism and rhythm come to mind when she thinks of ways that poetry can influence the thoughts of an individual. She never did do any writing, though, only reading, and sometimes even brainstorming poems in her head as she went throughout the day, observing the area and picking out individual pieces of the landscape to form an overall picture in her mind with words. She loved poetry about the landscape indeed; she was a sucker for anything nature-related. Her mind would be filled with spectacles of imagery that appeared in her mind as her emerald eyes drifted across the words on the pages.

[align=center][font=times]"Nature" is what we see—
The Hill—the Afternoon—
Squirrel—Eclipse— the Bumble bee—
Nay—Nature is Heaven—
Nature is what we hear—
The Bobolink—the Sea—
Thunder—the Cricket—
Nay—Nature is Harmony—
Nature is what we know—
Yet have no art to say—
So impotent Our Wisdom is
To her Simplicity

— Emily Dickinson

This poem was, perhaps, her favorite of all time, its words sticking to her memories like glue, and its imagery burning into her eyeless thoughts. And, yet, she related with it wholeheartedly. Within the vast sea of nature that surrounded the Tanglers and herself, there is nothing more simple yet complex than nature. Nature consisted of so much depth, so much detail, yet none could comprehend it, including herself.

She was quite surprised to see Eight lying on her back, staring up towards the sky as a sheet of paper laid on her chest. Approaching the young octocat, she nodded in greeting, laying beside her, curious as to what the paper withheld. "You writing poetry over here?" She was quite surprised, and as an effect excited, to see that someone else in Tanglewood appreciated the art as much as she did. "I'd like to read it if you'd let me. Maybe... I could help you write some more?" She fumbled her paws nervously. She knew Eight was still new to Tanglewood, and the last thing she wanted was to discomfort her by seeming clingy. Perhaps she'd take her up on the offer, though.