My glance
Glances at something more..Thoughts On Avatar
Fire, earth, wind, and water. I think deep down we all ask ourselves, if we could control one of these elements and use it at our will which one would it be?
For me fire would be kind of a drag. I’m not a big fan of the heat. I hate the dessert and whenever I think about fire I always think of the dessert. No, I wouldn’t want to control fire it would be a drag.
Water on the other hand is to soft for me. The ability to control water would probably evolve into a power to heal and who wants that? The power to heal is dumb. Plus I don’t surf, yet, so having the power to make giant waves wouldn’t be practical at all.
Wind wouldn’t be much different from water. Sure if I had the power to control wind I would probably become really wise, everyone knows the wind is a wise kind of element. But in the end it’s just a weak kind of element to control.
Now earth there’s a cool element. Sure you wouldn’t be able to heal, honestly I hold to my earlier conviction that it would be lame if you had the power to heal. And you probably wouldn’t end up becoming really wise because earth isn’t a smart element, we all know that. But it is a balanced element and it’s also strong. Earth would be, hands down by golly, the best element to control.
Somewhere in the Middle of Lossing my License
Have you ever stacked a bunch of wood? The reason why I ask is because my brothers and I just got done with stacking a bunch. It’s really not much fun, in fact it’s really not any fun at all. This year, we’ve always heated with wood, we have a ton of wood pieces that are way to big to fit in our fire place. That means we have sort through all the logs down stairs one at a time and find the ones we think will fit. After we find a few we bring them up stairs and stack them. I don’t like how when I pick up wood pieces a bunch of wood chips and dirt get on the jacket I’m wearing. I wear a jacket because it’s extremely cold down stairs. We have 13 steps that lead up stairs, at least I think it’s 13. This grand project goes on for about half an hour and then we’re done. That’s when I stop pretending I’m Clark Kent working on his families farm.
My dad once told me, “If there’s one thing you learn from me I hope it’s that you need to heat your house with wood.” I think he was kidding, at least I hope he was. I’m not going to heat my house with wood I think I’ll use something that takes a little less work. Yeah, he must have been joking.
Even now I am feeling the fruits of my labor as our fire place burns.. And, I just heard the wood we stacked fall. Excellent.
Why do I tell you this story? Good question. I’ve been trying to think up a reason while I’ve been typing but I’ve got nothing. So I wont make up a reason and I’ll just call it an excuse to write something about my exciting life of stacking wood in the woods.
“Margaritae Sorori” Another Poem
A late lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west,
Where the sun, his day’s work ended,
Lingers as in content,
There falls on the old, gray city
An influence luminous and serene,
A shining peace.
The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and are changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night–
Night with her train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.
So be my passing!
My task accomplish’d and the long day done,
My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,
Let me be gather’d to the quiet west,
The sundown splendid and serene,
Death.
This is another poem written by William Henley. I don’t think about death often, it’s not easy to think about. I think Henley thought about death. He was a really sick man for his whole life. And his daghter died at a young age. In his poem Invictus Henley challenged death and the, so to speak, storm of life. This poem changes seems to except peacefully the reality of death.
There’s nothing magical or wonderful about death and pain. But death is a real. Henley, as his life came to an end, knew his time was up and his day in this world was done.
This poem is, excuse my lameness, beautiful.
