a poem to bide the time
So I'm working on a "paper" (for lack of a better post-education word) based on the thesis that the Cowboy is the American Epic Hero. It's something that has been ruminating since the first time I taught World Literature and examined the idea of the Epic Hero in great detail. Since then, I've jotted down ideas, noted epic characteristics in movies and stories, and little else. It hadn't really formed itself into an actual work of any kind until a few months ago when I watched Open Range again. Great western, by the way. Today, I pulled it out again to continue working on it. I'm liking it. It's solidifying, though I am lacking specific examples. I may have to do some "research." (aka watch some cowboy movies) At any rate, it isn't ready for posting, but I hope it will be soon. In the meantime, here's a poem to bide your time:
Corridor
Footsteps echo in the darkness.
I pause, struggling to determine
the nature of the emptiness before me.
I cannot.
The echoes fade to quickly;
change to rapidly.
Hesitantly, I chance a few more steps.
More echoes.
No more enlightenment than before.
Apprehension appears
to check my progress:
what if there is a wall just there?
what if unseen stairs await?
what if...what if...?
I stop, frozen for a moment,
trying to decide what next.
To step forward in the darkness
is filled with risk.
To stand still is to stagnate.
One option is safer, simpler.
The other is life itself.
Cautiously, footsteps echo again.