The improvisation really helped lead me to an understanding of the perspective in the original poem. As we each reflect on the lives of our parents particularly the mother figure and how many times the grind of daily life kept her from seeing what is eternal, we begin to sense our own inability to recognize god and the divine part of life, creativity, being created. So generation after generation we continue in this path of not understanding and so why does the mother we lose come back to us, is it merely a moral reminder that we will face a maker or is it more of a reminder that we are missing out on what truly is important.
I particularly love the repetition at the end. What could have been what could have been? How many times in a life does one imagine what could have been, if they could go back? If I could start over at 8, 16, 22, knowing what I know now, what would I change? And yet like Shakespeare says in the Scottish play, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays. Regret of living a life of little spirituality and quiet discontent is so ingrained in human behavior and yet somehow we go back to the same routines. Knowledge of the inevitable cannot keep us from our continuing patterns that lead to more and more regret.
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