A Reflection by Kate Chopin
Some people are
born with a vital and responsive energy. It not only enables them to keep abreast
of the times; it qualifies them to furnish in their own personality a good bit
of the motive
power to the mad pace. They are fortunate beings. They do not need to apprehend
the significance of things. They do not grow weary nor miss step, nor do they fall
out of rank and sink by the wayside to be left contemplating the moving
procession.
Ah! that moving
procession that has left me by the road-side! Its fantastic colors are more brilliant
and beautiful than the sun on the undulating waters. What matter if souls and
bodies are
failing beneath the feet of the ever-pressing multitude! It moves with the
majestic rhythm of the spheres. Its discordant clashes sweep upward in one
harmonious tone that blends with the music of other worlds--to complete God's
orchestra.
It is greater than
the stars--that moving procession of human energy; greater than the palpitating
earth and the things growing thereon. Oh! I could weep at being left by the wayside;
left with the grass and the clouds and a few dumb animals. True, I feel at
home in the society of these symbols of life's immutability. In the procession
I should feel the crushing feet, the clashing discords, the ruthless hands and
stifling breath. I could not hear the rhythm of the march.
Salve! ye dumb
hearts. Let us be still and wait by the roadside.
_________
-THE END-
Kate Chopin's short story: A Reflection
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