Fears

What I fear most, is coming to the end of my life and finding I've wasted it by doing nothing, or by fighting for the wrong things.  If I"m going to live, I want to make a meaningful difference.

Confession: If I died tomorrow, my worst fears would come true.

What do you fear most?

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

- Emily Dickinson

Going For Water
The well was dry beside the door, And so we went with pail and can Across the fields behind the house To seek the brook if still it ran; Not loth to have excuse to go, Because the autumn eve was fair (Though chill), because the fields were ours, And by the brook our woods were there. We ran as if to meet the moon That slowly dawned behind the trees, The barren boughs without the leaves, Without the birds, without the breeze. But once within the wood, we paused Like gnomes that hid us from the moon, Ready to run to hiding new With laughter when she found us soon. Each laid on other a staying hand To listen ere we dared to look, And in the hush we joined to make We heard, we knew we heard the brook. A note as from a single place, A slender tinkling fail that made Now drops that floated on the pool Like pearls, and now a silver blade. ~Robert Frost

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
                           -Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There, 1871

To be alive is power-
Existence in itself,
Without a further function,
Omnipotence enough.

To be alive and will
'Tis able as a god!
The further of ourselves be what-
Such being finitude?
                         -Emily Dickinson, c. 1864

It's poems week. Emily Dickinson is probably my favorite poet, so most will probably be by her. Enjoy! Also, Happy Halloween. 

Witchcraft has not a pedigree-

'Tis early as our breath;

And mourners meet it going out

The moment of our death.

                            -Emily Dickinson, undated