As the first of December dawns, it brings with it a tale of choices, challenges, and change. In my latest post, which I’m thrilled to share on the blog, I delve into the timeless struggle of leaving the comfort of the familiar to embrace the call of the unknown.
“Friday, the First of December,” is more than just a composition of words; it’s a reflection of a moment we’ve all faced at some point – standing at life’s crossroads, contemplating the warmth of the known versus the thrill of the unexplored.
This poem narrates the story of a fireplace, a symbol of safety, comfort, and familiarity. It’s a haven where everything seems right, and no harm can touch us. Yet, isn’t there a part of us that yearns for something beyond that safe glow? The vast sky and the rolling landscapes whisper promises of adventures and experiences that one can only dream of while sitting by the fire.
Through this poem, I invite you to journey with me as I recall the emotions and thoughts that raced through my mind as I pondered this difficult decision. It’s a tribute to the allure of the unknown and the exhilarating feeling of stepping out of our comfort zones.
Leaving the fireplace behind is not about discarding the past or deeming it wrong. It’s about acknowledging that sometimes, the heart yearns for the wilderness, for nights under starlit skies, and for the warmth of campfires made with our own hands.
Friday, the First of December,
I arrived at a crossroads.
To find a means to an ember?
Or cast my eyes as a new dawn glowed?
The fireplace stood someplace safe,
A haven where goodness meets,
and no wrong could befall this place.
Such is to fire what warmth completes.
Yet the sky above held a calling,
as it rolled over open country,
promising a life of a distant recalling,
And a campfire of gathered sundry.
Friday, the First of December,
I left the crossroads behind,
a mere memory now to remember.
Under a mercurial sky, I live redefined.