Life On The Road

Good morning. It is August 20th, 2008. I am on break at work and thought I would expound on yesterday's blog. To the left is the picture I was talking about in New Mexico. It looks good framed on my parent's wall. I used a small 4.3 megapixel camera, a far cry from what I now use to take photos. There was an aloneness in that photo maybe foreshadowing the days ahead, who knows. Any how the past is just that, the past. I am working hard both at my day job, and at advancing what little photography skills I might possess. My ideal job? If money were not an object I would travel the world taking pictures of whatever was around me. Maybe I would keep a journal of my travels and write a few travel books, with pictures as well. There has always been a solitary aspect to my life. For a long while I just thought myself to be self-centered. Quite possibly I am, but too many times I let myself worry about what others think of me. There are a few poems where I question who I am and why I do what I do. There isn't too much time on this break but I'll post one here before someone comes in and I have to work again. It is a poem I wrote less than a year ago. I have slowed down in my writing. One of my muses has stepped out of my life, and it seems some of my inspiration has left. I have known her for close to 5 years now. She makes me question what I think and feel, and is really one of my best friends. I wish her well. Here is the poem. It has been edited.


Ask Me Again


Ask me again where my mind is,
trapped here and now, caught between times
of innocence and devils' calls.

Ask me again where my heart lies,
beating inside this tattered chest
set with the scars that I've earned.

Ask me again how my soul is,
free from my mind and misgivings
of this old heart, broke but mending.

Ask me again and I'll tell you
This mind is whole, strong, and my own,
guarding against my weaknesses.

Now can you understand where my mind is?
My heart holds love for those it chooses,
even when they are never near.

Now do you see how my heart feels always?
This soul dances to it's own voice,
a quiet, slow waltz through this life.

And now will you dance along with me?


Nate