Falling Softly

I wrote this for a friendĀ one afternoon in early January. I had only written a couple poems before that and didn’t have any real plan for what I wanted to create. It was snowing and I was thinking about my time in Paris so I combined these two elements with some of the themes in an old villanelle I had created for my Lit 201 class several years back and came up with something new and quite surprising. At some point I may revise it, but for now I will leave it as I finished it that winter afternoon.

The snow was falling softly
As I looked out the door.
There was no one to speak of
Walking these hallowed streets of lore.
An emptiness once unforeseen
Now filled me through and through.
With heavy heart and hand
I put on my shoe.

I stepped out to greet
This unsettling sight,
And soon began to wonder
What would become me of my plight.
For the secret was out there
To this beautiful life,
If I could just find the answer
It would end all my strife.

I walked towards the Arc
With the Tower in my sights,
And found it with ease,
Much to my delight.
Its grande mass before me,
I took it all in
And remembered the absence
Of all the great din.

No cars to congest,
No people to recreate,
Just a monument and a man
For life to liberate.
I finally began to find
In this dark city of Light
The beauty and peace
Once lost in the Great Fight.

With darkness coming quickly
And snow blanketing the ground,
I left the great triumph,
Without making a sound.
I passed by alleys and corridors
And through a garden full of trees.
I found myself at the Tower
And fell to my knees.

The secret was near,
The secret was there,
The secret was here,
It was everywhere.
There was nothing to hide
And nothing more to be,
But a man calm inside,
Left standing by a tree.

Hello World!

Dieses Bier ist sehr gut!

It’s after 2 a.m. on a Friday night and it seems I can’t come up with a better title for my first post. In fact, I’m so worn out that I don’t have much to come up with for anything right now. I just want to have something available so that when I wake up later this morning and log back in to look at my new creation, I won’t be faced with a blank page. There’s something to say about a blank page, and not being faced with it. There’s something to say about a lot of things, which I hope to accomplish throughout my posts on this blog, although I probably won’t cover all of them, since who has that much time to devote to saying something about everything? Zeus, perhaps. Or another of the immortals. Anyways, I digress (which happens more often than you might think). I am starting this new blog because I was unhappy with where my old one was going. I had little control over the design, it was not being read by the engines and so no one was finding it, and I was beginning to take it in a direction that I’ve been working tirelessly to move away from. In the end, I just didn’t feel like I had much control over my own blog. I wanted a fresh start with something more dynamic, more stabile, and that gave me the ability to control every aspect of content and design. I’ve never used WordPress before, so it’s taken me several hours throughout the day today to do some research and begin understanding what I can do and what I want to do with its capabilities. I’m excited by the endless possibilities and the growing community. I’m also excited about being more proactive with my posts, focusing them on actual topics and ideas rather than the constant rambling journal entries my old blog had become. I want to post pictures on here. I want to share stories and writings that I’ve done in the past and plan on continuing to do going forward. I want to share my ideas and my experiences, past, present, and future. Ever since I left USC to move back to Montana and figure out where my place in life is, I’ve been drifting along with my wandering, and a lot of it hasn’t been good. I’m working on changing this, and the last two months have been huge strides forward for me. But even in all that drifting and searching for meaning, there have been some amazing experiences. I am a wayward drifter. I like to see the world and understand it and experience it for what it is and for what my mind makes it out to be. I am good at many things but master at none. I have an imagination that sometimes drives me to wonder if I’m walking on the wrong side of genius. I like to combine the analytical with the creative, the dark with the light, the good with the evil, and turn it into something beautiful and real and me. I have felt so alone and isolated and foreign to myself and those around me that I rarely am able to achieve any of this. But I am always working towards this goal, this bliss of mine. It will never truly happen as I have imagined it. I will never be able to be all things at once. And I will never understand where it is I am going to be next week, next month, or next year. But there is one thing that I will always be so long as I push myself to follow the thing I’ve wanted to do since I was eight years old and living out of a barn in the mountains of Montana. As long as I write, as long as I don’t give up on myself, I will always be the writing wanderer.