And so my summer break begins... (update)

    Now is the time that I have yearned for so long, the summer when my eyes would be open. The green of the fresh leaves radiates and dominates the world around me. And yet, I feel as if even with the blessing of such a colorful world, I am cursed still. Since I am currently unemployed, the summer provides me with most of my free time, yet I hardly write at all. This is my curse.

     The days pass so slowly, and still so quickly. I know that in what feels like years, yet seconds, it will be over, and I shall return to a more progressive or productive lifestyle. I believe I have written about my "writer's block" before. I suppose now I am making a plead to myself to get back to writing, but the only thing that seems to want to be written is "The Beginning of the End" and I dare say it would be strange to spend the days of color lost within the colorless future. I believe I have written about sixty thousand words of that novel so far, and the journey feels the end nearing. Marie-Lynn, I am still looking for you. But I know that with Camp NaNoWriMo coming up in June, that story will have to take a short break. Currently, I intend on writing "Kuna Zero: A Wanderer's Tale" during June. It is the prequel to "The Beginning of the End." We will see how that will turn out, but for now, I return to my little talk. 

     Once I was told that I did not write enough to experience "writer's block." Perhaps this is what caused my respect for that person to drop dramatically. From what I have heard, they have written one, maybe two novels. They are inexperienced. Their age does not aid them either. Last I checked, they were about fifteen. They do not seem to understand that "writer's block" affects anyone who writes any amount. What it is, in essence, is an inability to write that is experienced by writers. Writers are defined as people who write, clearly. Therefore, if one writes and experiences an inability to write all of a sudden, they are suffering from "writer's block." I was told that I did not write enough to experience "writer's block" quite a while ago, actually. I am not really sure why it resurfaced. Perhaps I feel the need to express myself when people say such things. Anyways, I do believe that I should really get some rest. Another day awaits me, and surely something must change tomorrow. I will make it change. Goodnight, good day, and farewell!

-Zero

In Memory of Jacques Aubin

This post is in memory of my grandfather, Jacques Aubin, who passed away on Sunday, May 6th.

     While I stood beside his hospital bed that fateful day, Death spoke to me and revealed itself to me. I did not feel all that bad about what was about to transpire. His passing was no surprise. First of all, I felt it in my chest that the end was near for him, but I also had Death whispering in my ear. He whispered "Do not fear Death, for it is only temporary" and myriad other words involving himself. I wrote about Death that day, and I became Death in all his wonder. I do not think I quite fear Death as much any more, and Life seems all the more beautiful.

    The sun was shining that day. It truly was the eye of heaven. With the window open, I could hear the cheering of lively people at a sport's game. Maybe I was the only one that knew that once, and in some places now, Death was celebrated. The sky was so endlessly blue that I could not help but smile when I looked at it. The leafy green covered the land outside of the hospital. I knew Life would go on. Soon, a new way of referring to the most basic aspects of the world would come to me.

    I wandered out of the room and grabbed my pen, the pen I bought with the money that my grandfather gave me, and wrote down Death's words once more. "The Great Raven comes to bring him to the Great Mountain." I wasn't sure what to make of it at first, but I had an underlying understanding in my heart. The Great Mountain is where we go when we die, and the Great Raven, or Death, carries us there. It seemed so profoundly simple to me.

      The next day, while I was in class, I wrote a poem about the Great Raven, but something felt like it was missing. That's when I realized that I had forgotten Life. In mere moments, words came to mind and to paper. I wrote a mirroring poem about the Great White Dove. She is the one who carries us back from the Great Mountain and allows us to be born again. Now things have progressed from there.

    

     An idea came to mind shortly after, or rather an urge did. I suddenly wanted to write an epic, but I wasn't sure what to write it about. I have decided. Should I write this epic, it will be about a battle between the Great Raven and the Great White Dove. Anyways, I must be off. I do intend that you may have enjoyed this post. Until next time,

-Zero

Terminus Ut Orsa (poem)

She began to walk,
Far away from where he lies,
She refused to talk,
To him who now dies.
She doesn't care today,
And he forever will.
She leaves the place where she lays;
His love amounts to nill.

In his darkest days,
A small shard of hope nears,
A light on the bed that he lays,
Ready to free him of his tears,
A power unamounted.
Its name is love,
A truthful and real love,
For a helpless one.

Her name is Faith,
A fitting name for him,
For he long ago lost his fate,
And it was not lost on a whim.
His last love he comes to hate,
Her unfaithfulness was the end.
Her leaving was her fate,
Something she cannot bend.

-Zero