This year has been quite the whirlwind... and I guess my life will continue to be so until I decide what I really want to do with my future. Yes, yes, I'm being a veritable tumbleweed these days... Heck! This year, actually. But the important thing is my pursuit for fulfillment and happiness is still on. I have not given up on anything... yet. :P And for those who might be worried about me now... Don't. Seriously, I'm not lost. Well, I don't feel that I am. You see, in order for one to be lost, one has to have a destination in mind first. Right? And the minute you veer away from the road that takes you to that destination, that is when you can say you're lost. What I am right now is "aimless". That is the most apt adjective that could describe what I am and how I feel at the moment. Hahaha. And yes, I do feel melancholy sometimes. But then, what normal person is happy all the time? In short, I'm a typical homo sapien. So that part is really nothing to be concerned about.
This week, however, is a particularly gloomy one. Maybe it's just a passing melancholia. Maybe it's just fate sending me an augury of what's to come. Well, whichever it is... I've suddenly had this hankering for Dickinson, Poe, and Frost. And so, as I was rummaging through my head for my fave poems... I stumbled across one that aptly describes what I feel today. :P And yes, this is just me being a drama queen. I do have those tendencies sometimes... only sometimes. :D
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Ah, me! These doldrums and I have an ongoing love affair, I tell you.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Ah, me! These doldrums and I have an ongoing love affair, I tell you.
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