When I worked as a high school English teacher, a favorite poem to share with students was “Among School Children,” by William Butler Yeats. It’s complex, dealing with everything from the loss of innocence, to the relationship between human experience and art. And it famously ends this way:
O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer
Are you the leaf, the blossom, or the bole
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?