Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower — but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Crossing the Bar, The Charge of the Light Brigade) is hardly my favorite poet. But something certainly struck a chord in my mind with this one.
The opening line of this poem was echoing in my mind even while I was originally snapping the photo. Now, discovering the rest of the poem and a little perplexed about its interpretation, that same line echoes as urgently still: Flower in the crannied wall.
In what may be true minimalist fashion, both photo and line seem to me to say everything about, well, everything. And so I may have stumbled after all upon what the poet meant with his last line.
The weekly photo challenge, while always stimulating, rarely challenges me quite so deeply. What does the challenge mean for you?