He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon.
I am ever busy building this wall all around; and as this wall goes up into
the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow.
I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand
lest a least hole should be left in this name;
and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.
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A name is no longer what it once was. A name is no longer chosen as carefully, with as much attention to the meaning that it carries. Or perhaps the concept of a name was never quite right. We can only name part of ourself. Usually, we name only the uppermost surface of ourselves. Often, we do not realize how much of us is submerged, never to see the light.
I view this poem from the point of view of a person who is polishing his exterior, all the while being unaware as to how he can polish his soul. He constructs what he can to support his being, but is it ever truly enough? Can he ever know himself, what lies beneath? -
Hidden
It seems as though you are speaking from expirience of going through a dark place in your life and trying to find yourself. I like how the last two lines show how he is using the wall to hide himself. -
Forlorn and mysterious
I'm always trying to find my true being too. It's difficult isn't it, but worth the search. Wonderful description of a dungeon atmosphere.
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