Moment

Eon
Millennia
Century
Decade
Year
Month
Week
Day
Hour
Second
Moment

Life is composed of many moments,
   each different and unique.
All built off of one another,
   weaving together,
   creating a story.

All it takes is one moment:
   one moment to make a mistake,
   one moment to shine,
   one moment to change who you are,
   one moment to define yourself.

One moment is all it takes.

All it comes down to is
   one moment among many.

When will your moment come?

Hesitation/Night

"Walk to the edge of the light
and a few steps into the darkness."

Two steps forward,
   one step back.
Slowly moving to the edge,
   squinting through the dark:
hoping to see a glimmer
with the remaining light.
No such luck.

Holding your breath and
peering into the night:
    paralyzed by the unknown.
Knowing the next step is paramount;
    nothing will ever be the same.

Is change a good thing?
Or is it a bad?

Pondering for what seems an eternity,
   you absentmindedly take a step forward.
   One by one
      Another
         And another
            And another.

Focused on a small patch of space
   directly in front of you.
Slowly looking up and around...
Tiny jewel-like points twinkling in the sky;
   the stars are out tonight.

Hallways/Choices

Hallways:
   one this way,
   one that way.
Criss-crossing
and interlaced.
Stops all along the way
   to your destination.
Melodies floating down each hall,
   sending their own message.

Choices:
   all intricately woven together,
   presented through the music.
All songs so similar,
yet vastly different.
Each note, every key-
   a personal communication to the soul.

To the right?
To the left?
   Or the middle?

Where will you go?
Or rather, where will your journey take you?

Words

Seemingly easy things,
   yet difficult to articulate.
Always on the tip,
   never quite reaching:
   drowning in them.
Caught in a never ending whirlwind,
   all pushing and shoving to
   come out in a tangled mess.
Lashing out,
   whipping about people's heads.
A pile of torn rags
   once grand and colorful,
   now confused and battered.
Crystal clear turned muddy.
Bright turned dark.

Yet,
   Is there a golden thread I see
   within these words?

Silent Music

Mindless chattering.
The word in a tumultuous disarray,
unaware of the music around them.

Quietly,
     simply,
          sweetly,
speaking to everyone,
falling on deaf ears.

The world in a constant buzz;
the droning of a hive.
Swirling around you,
drowning the music.

Every once in a while
     a note here
          or a note there,
striking a chord in you (like a chime).

Focus closer on the notes
     slowly the world's chaos melts away,
     leaving the music to envelope you.

Only those truly listening will hear
     the music,
made silent by the world.
  
     How often do you stop and listen to the music?

Bottled

open.
close.
open.
close.
flying
or
caged.
happy
or
sad.
up
or
down.
excited
or
deflated.

no in betweens.
no half openings.
no half closings.
   always torn.

how is it possible
that we are often stuck?

"Footprints"

One night I dreamed I was walking along the
beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed the footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
"You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying
periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints in the
sand.
Why, when I needed you most, you have not been
there for me?"

The Lord replied,
"The times when you have seen only one set of
footprints in the sand,
is when I carried you."

- Anonymous

When I first started this blog my intention was to put up an original poem of mine every week, in an attempt to become a better poet. This week I would say I have had more or less writers' block.
This poem is one of my favorites, so. . . Enjoy! :)

The Door/ The Mind's Door

A place. . .
     to keep things
     to hold information
     to remember.
A place. . .
     to roam
     to explore the unknown
     to think.
A place. . .
     unassuming
     overlooked
     and often forgotten.

Underneath it all
     Something is missing
     Something is wrong
     Something is off.

Always pondering -
Never quite realizing whats amiss.

Something said, something remembered.
The cogs  of the mind slowly shifting,
     finally clicking into place.

Memories, thoughts
     Long suppressed
     Flood back into the mind.

In a single moment
Everything
     Brighter, clearer,
     More defined.

The space grown considerably larger,
accompanied with a single freeing thought.

Fear

Its inside, always has been.
     Running rampant.
          Never a Moment's Peace.

A constant presence.
     Like a tic in the back of your mind.
     Ever watchful for the Opportune Moment.

A slight chill,
     Creeping. . . .
     Seeping into your veins.
     Fog silently coasting across your mind.
     Tendrils wrapping around your heart.
     Binding faster and faster.

          Unable to speak.
          Unable to move.
          Barely breathing.
               It passes. . . .
          Eyes frantic,
               Searching everywhere,
                    Never finding.

     Without warning dragged back
          Into the torrential Chaotic Moment

     Gradually retreating. . . .

     Wondering, always wondering.
          Will it come back?
           How long will it last?


Forever in Fear.

The Simple Things

The warm sunlight in the breeze
The slight scent of wayside flow'rs
The quiet song of the birds
The lazy hum of the bees

The hushed strain of the piano
The downy feel of cotton

The clear smile of a child
The soft laughter of a babe
The joyful glance in oth'rs eyes

The simple moments, the simple things:
These by far hold the greatest meanings.

Dreams Deferred

The tendency to defer dreams:
to put off,
to procrastinate,
to shelf away for later use.
All with good intention,
but does this good intention follow through?
It sits on the shelf,
in the dark,
simply waiting.
Anticipating the moment the dream can begin,
for it to take root in life.
To become a living, breathing thing.
It sits on the shelf
cold,
dusty,
dirty,
forgotten.

A man's closet is like one huge room
filled with a myriad collection of
such boxes. Each dusty and dirty
beyond recognition, some more than others.

The barely covered boxes,
the brightly covered ones
are picked up and opened.
While the older ones,
the least recognizable ones
are left alone.
These boxes are the simpler ones,
the plainer ones.
The ones from childhood.
These are the dreams deferred.

Written Winter of 2010

The Naming

Today I made the decision to finally get a blog after reading a friends, which had some excellent poetry on it. I stared at the computer for a couple minutes before realizing how I should go about naming my blog. Every blog I see has a name that fits and matches the blogger to perfection. I like this name so hopefully the name I chose goes with this blogger.

So you're all probably wondering what my reasoning for naming this blog Aella Astraea is, and what it even means. It means "whirlwind star" in greek. I love mythology and decided that would be the best place to get a name because as a friend pointed out, a name meant more with a meaning, and I agree completely on that point. Yet, I'm also of the opinion that a name should sound pretty, hence the birth of Aella Astraea. 

So welcome to Aella Astraea, the whirlwind star.