This ending.

I've experienced relatively few endings in my life. Fifteen years haven't offered time for much to end at all. But, today is one of those few. When the sun disappears today, I'll only ever see it again if this year ends, and end it shall. So, as this year closes, what books shall I close, what memories shall I forget, and what deeds will forever be done. Where am I hoping for the suns rays to touch for the last time tonight? What am I going to cut so that newness can rise up tomorrow?

This is all to say that I would like to live simply. I want to figure out myself the way every other generation has. I want to rid myself of distraction, and make my way towards being the well-rounded man, who is physically, mentally, and spiritually able to deal with every obstacle. That requires change, and to make room for new processes, one must rid themself of the old.

Here is my list of departures...
...my ipod touch...This is for purposes of petty games and pointless browsing... ipod nano is being reawakened.
...the computer I own being in my room...I could spend hours of time on this sucker sitting at my desk, not so much at my kitchen table.
...texting...One of the more difficult departures, but how can I expect to focus on simplicity if I buzz so often I can't see straight. Call me, or write me a letter.
...facebook...The curse of this generation, I've spent 25% of my year on it. Thats disgusting.

So, sometimes it seems like making commitments is easy, when they're alone in your head, but then again those fail. These are commitments that will last, at least until 2012, because I am now announcing them to you all.
Please keep me accountable.
I will discuss my new beginnings tomorrow.
Thank you.
Andrew

The Nature of Chaos

They put me on a pedestal and they mock me.
I dont understand their words.
Of course it is because I am too young.

And at once I ask to speak, for I am confused,
why the pedestal, why me?
and so those are my questions.

But of course the crowd is too loud to even hear my plea,
For sadly I only whispered it.
I am afraid.

And I ask once more, trying for courage,
But again they mock louder than I speak.
My courage battles their noise.

And so we fight and we fight until I am pressed off
of the pedestal by a young man, who silent,
Watches man after man become their own enemy

He watches man after man, destroyed by their own ambition
join the jeering crowd below
each thinking they are still fighting for their own

But only destroying every other.

Some Sort of Adventure.

Sometimes I wonder if there are others among and around me that dream about adventure.

For there is such a romantic version of adventure, and then there is such a push for the reality of adventure. There are those who make it seem more incredible than it is, and then there are those who fight to make it so much less than it is. Well, perhaps we don't realize why the idea of adventure has been romanticized. Perhaps we don't realize that these men who have been through dark hours, come out screaming of the joy of overcoming. They scream of the ecstasy that only the climbing over an infinitely high obstacle can bring. And perhaps thats all we remember, but remember it we should, and pursue it we should. So, there I fall, If I can find that challenge, and overcome it, even if I can't see, even if I know not when the pain ends, even if I have to stare death down, then I will have found my adventure. I want to know that in that aspect, adventure has been romanticized, because only when it has can I know that it is worth the time to pursue. Because only then can I know that current pain will most certainly lead to future joy. Only then is it worth the fight.

And fight for it I shall.

Andrew

Not a poem.

Dear friends,

If you read this every once and a while, I would like to thank you. For some, I may request you to read a post or two and give me feedback, and for others perhaps you've remembered to check back since the day I first mentioned it. But, if you've read any of these, then I'm thankful. You're either a good friend, or you actually enjoy my small dabble in the poetic world. I would like it if you did. My hope is that something in these words will encourage you where you're at, or excite your dreams just enough to give you an hour where a warm beverage, a pen, and thought combine perfectly.

I also hope you enjoyed the first written post ever.

Sincerely,

Andrew

Fearless.

Take time to the place it was made

As if I can't handle it

Let me be tossed around in it

Let me return to the things I have said.

Let me view the ahead in the wretched sea

As I remember where I will go

As I know the things I hope

And the things I most want aren't too far to be.

Cast me out on the ship I am given

But at least let me know I return

Or even give me the chance to mourn

For the man I will come to inherit.

Grant me the wish to be that fearless man

Who sits in the timeless sea

Unafraid to be

Because he's not afraid to fear, to hope, and to love.

A Note.

So here is a poem for someone I love
Who suffers the burden that I tend to give
When alone with myself I dream and I hope
And write meaningless things like this little note.

Thoughts.

Again, I have fallen
into the streams
of a past of frozen
now thawing
thoughts.

Once again they surround me
Breathe in me; with me
and altogether of me
as they lead me
to write

And now, pen in hand
they guide me
without any forethought
to recount them
to use them

So now, dear thoughts
become in me what
you have become
in so many others:
Alive.

The Mountains

They stand

guardians of past

like trees

their roots grasp

Sometimes they sway

but not in the breeze

for that is nothing

to them

But they sway

to a beat, a rythme

their heart

our earth

And as they watch

swaying like trees

with beating hearts

and sharpened brow

They share stories

like men around a fire

they whisper

they groan

They discuss the fires

of old

of distant lands

of past days

These whispers

breath around the earth

always there

always speaking

Like the men

telling fireside stories

can be heard

in all chests

Like the whisper

of new lands

breaths life into

weak

Like the challenge

to win

to conquer

to live

That is their call

These ancient keepers

of dirt

of rock

That is their wild whisper

Their sharp sigh

Their bitter echo

Their uneven breath

That is the cry

That will drag men

out of their comfort

and into their home

A Hand

Take my hand

You hurt and pained

Take my hand

You weak at heart

Take my hand

Oh lonely man

Take it.

Can you not see.

For as you always have

Blindly.

You sit still

Against the wall

You mutter to yourself

You stare at the floor

You imagine

That you’re happy.

But once you take hold

Of my hand

You will see

What you have always missed.

You say no

You say you have what you want.

And I sigh.

And you return.

To weep in your satisfaction.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I catch you laughing
and I didn't hear the joke
But'll laugh with you.

Cause if by laughing we grow
Closer than we once were before
Then I'll be laughing

And when I catch you breathing
I can't stop looking cause I'de kiss you
If you'd let me

And when you write me I imagine
your hands were shaking so I held them
And then we smiled

And as you smile I stop
To I forget that I'm still hurting
because I'm with you

And being with you
Is all I can think of

Cause now its all that matters.

Trains

Oh the trains always seem to be traveling east
But my souls telling me thats not me in the least
And the paths always head where I don't wanna be
Never to the lands my eyes have wanted to see

So take me home
I'm tired of being where I don't belong
Take this soul
For fear of the light has kept me here too long

Oh my prayer is long and my sighing deep
Can you awaken my soul to a place we can meet
I fear I'll be stuck in the damp and the cold
And the life that I want won't be mine till I'm old

Forgetting.

How can I forget

The whisper of many wings

Beating quick this lonely chest

In silence and in hope.

How can I forget

A breaking dawn through windows

That though nearly breathless

Were stolen of their breath

How can I forget

The quaking skin I wear

Being calmed by purest warmth

When your eyes take hold of mine

How can I forget you

When your smile

And your laugh

Can heal the hurt of days

So I never will forget you

For forgetting is as much a sin

As seeing the beauties of heaven

And being satisfied to never return

Crying voices.

Funny how voices are just passing birds

Fading off into my mind

Cause when I look around your all I’ve heard

You and God intertwined

Then they pass and ‘light on the moon

While I’m laying here on my back

How many times have I wished for it soon

Not to fade into the black

Cause endings begin the unforgotten

They start anew what’s been gone

But the blackest night can’t stay pardoned

When I weep alone for my sin.

For my sin.

Liars.

Oh my dear and lowly reader

From the grasping clawing mirror

How I weep? How I weep?

For the body I can’t keep

Oh I cry, Oh I cry

For the flesh that’s never mine

And I tear at the skin

In a din, In a din

For the fear of the dark

Keeps awake my hark

So I hark, How I hark

For a flesh that so dark

Keeps in it a heart

Oh the heart How the heart

With the bloodless hopeless mark

Of a fearful generation

With the gloomy innovation

Of a dim and lowly standard

So far-fetched and pandered

To the desires of a few

And is now the hope of many.

How they lie.