May 2012
I
Here comes the storm.
When all of my choices are to be made.
For so long it seemed so far away,
And like a mirage it stayed the same.
No matter how other things moved,
The faster I moved the farther away it went.
II
Without a place to escape to, i followed the road where it went,
Wishing I knew what would happen after this storm.
I think it would be beautiful, though, as horses moved.
And though the storm comes no closer, despite my effort made,
Everything must be decided, nailed down, because nothing will be the same.
III
How tempting it is, to push everything away,
When I don’t know if this storm came and went.
Everything could be different, but to me it looks the same.
If only someone who knows it, could tell me of this storm.
**** it! I know some preparation could be made,
Soon, this storm or I will move.
IV
Once I begin, I will not be able to stop moving.
This storm will pull me in and I won’t get away.
I’m afraid it will take from me the ambition I’ve made,
I’m afraid that after I won’t know where it went,
And how to find it. maybe I won’t want to see this storm,
After all, it’s me that will change, this storm-any storm- will always be the same.
V
This storm, until I pass it, will stay the same,
But its inner workings collapse on themselves, and so its sameness moved.
All things cater to a storm.
They are invisible, but I know this one’s here. By the sway of the trees and the bend in the light and how all of the animals scamper away.
Through the warp of the stars I can see where it went,
It leaves a path, and to follow everything is made.
VI
Perspective is lost when fear is made.
And not all fears will stay the same.
If only in knowing where I went,
I can tell if the storm has moved,
It won’t matter if it stayed or went away.
It will matter that I walked-tall-into that storm.
VII
It will always catch up no matter how we move,
If we stay the same or move away.
Regardless of where we went, ahead remains the storm.
Here comes the storm.
When all of my choices are to be made.
For so long it seemed so far away,
And like a mirage it stayed the same.
No matter how other things moved,
The faster I moved the farther away it went.
II
Without a place to escape to, i followed the road where it went,
Wishing I knew what would happen after this storm.
I think it would be beautiful, though, as horses moved.
And though the storm comes no closer, despite my effort made,
Everything must be decided, nailed down, because nothing will be the same.
III
How tempting it is, to push everything away,
When I don’t know if this storm came and went.
Everything could be different, but to me it looks the same.
If only someone who knows it, could tell me of this storm.
**** it! I know some preparation could be made,
Soon, this storm or I will move.
IV
Once I begin, I will not be able to stop moving.
This storm will pull me in and I won’t get away.
I’m afraid it will take from me the ambition I’ve made,
I’m afraid that after I won’t know where it went,
And how to find it. maybe I won’t want to see this storm,
After all, it’s me that will change, this storm-any storm- will always be the same.
V
This storm, until I pass it, will stay the same,
But its inner workings collapse on themselves, and so its sameness moved.
All things cater to a storm.
They are invisible, but I know this one’s here. By the sway of the trees and the bend in the light and how all of the animals scamper away.
Through the warp of the stars I can see where it went,
It leaves a path, and to follow everything is made.
VI
Perspective is lost when fear is made.
And not all fears will stay the same.
If only in knowing where I went,
I can tell if the storm has moved,
It won’t matter if it stayed or went away.
It will matter that I walked-tall-into that storm.
VII
It will always catch up no matter how we move,
If we stay the same or move away.
Regardless of where we went, ahead remains the storm.
This is in sestina form, which is a lot like writing three poems at once while slaying a dragon.This poem is a metaphor for my worries about university and an event horizon and a black hole. My brains will need to be scraped off the floor. In some places the metaphor for one theme is light, in order for another theme to shine through. For example, the fifth stanza is almost a slap in the face as a hint towards the black hole/event horizon theme. Mentions of the storm staying the same are referring to one's perception approaching a black hole. While getting closer, one cannot determine any change until they are beyond the event horizon. To me, university is an event horizon, and I'm terrified that it wont't be what I imagined it will be, that I will miss the opportunities it presents. I tried to allow for some ambiguity in this poem that I am not certain came across clearly. When someone reads this, I want them to be able to apply their own event horizon. Or realize how close the theory of general relativity is to poetry.
