I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams,
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
Shelley speaks of changing without dying. Death is not the end, it is merely the beginning of a change and, ultimately, a rebirth, as the cloud arises again. Line 83 especially emphasizes this idea of rebirth ("Like a child from the womb") while acknowledging in the same breath how it is interwoven with death.
This sort of balance is also important in the idea of yin and yang. Some mentioned the duality of the cloud, one moment kind, the next malevolent. This, however, is a necessary balance, between the sun and life of yang and the cold, wet and death of yin. Without yin, yang cannot exist. Yang and yin are not good and evil, rather, it is the imbalance of the two that creates evil. Therefore, when we see the cloud "wield the flail of the lashing hail", I do not think that it is done out of malice. Certainly not, for the cloud dissolves again this hail, and passes away in thunder as it laughs. Every action is balanced by a reaction. Yin and yang come from nothingness, much like the cloud ("The pavilion of heaven is bare").
I enjoyed this poem for the seeming wonderment at all the beauties of nature, and while existence is no small question to ponder, I feel that Shelley is not really questioning at all, but is rather passive and accepting, enjoying both the winters and summers of life. And he fears not death, but rather laughs at it, knowing that it is but an impermanent state and a transition back to life.
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