right and left brained.

Still will I harvest beauty where it grows: 
In coloured fungus and the spotted fog 
Surprised on foods forgotten; in ditch and bog 
Filmed brilliant with irregular rainbows 
Of rust and oil, where half a city throws 
Its empty tins; and in some spongy log 
Whence headlong leaps the oozy emerald frog. 
And a black pupil in the green scum shows. 
Her the inhabiter of divers places 
Surmising at all doors, I push them all. 
Oh, you that fearful of a creaking hinge 
Turn back forevermore with craven faces, 
I tell you Beauty bears an ultrafringe 
Unguessed of you upon her gossamer shawl! 
- Edna St. Vincent Millay 
 
I think this poem accurately articulates my perspective on life.