The twists and turns of life are ironic. Last year, in September, I was pleased with my life (if not exactly happy or enthused about it). I had no responsibilities (which probably explain much of my mood back then), I was looking forward to a few events/activities and I was living by a lake watching autumn arrive. This year, these aspects of my life are one-hundred-eighty degrees in the other direction -- and, my mood right now reflects it.
I have a habit of returning to the same poets, the same writers, the same painters, the same musicians, the same battlefields, the same myths and legends, the same concepts of perfection and beauty, the same ideals of fairness and justice -- returning to everything except the same places, the same locations, the same memories drifting in time.
This is because, I believe, a poem or a song or a concept does not change, while a place does change and a memory does fade. I look for things which are constant while I constantly am in motion pursuing a dream which probably does not exist in reality. A paradox.
Someone asked me yesterday who I was. I have no idea, depending upon the concept behind the question. I know where I have been and what these experiences have molded me into, but I am not certain if that is who I am or, merely, a fabrication of random chance events formed by the paths I have walked and the people I have met. I am fire and I am ice. I am an constant unconstant. I am certain she wanted a more definitive and simple explanation (like maybe my actual name), but .... I also am illusive, if nothing else.
So, here again, we return to another constant in my repertoire of poetry: Robert Frost and "Fire and Ice." Here again is Enya, with its own interpretation of fire and ice. Here again is Apocalyptica, not with fire and ice, but, any melancholy music will do today and the magic of the wolf is part of it if you listen closely. When I think about it, the graphics accompanying the piece, "Romance," are reminiscent of fire and ice.
While Frost writes about the end of life in his poem, another poem, an Old Norse epic -- the "Poetic Edda" -- has the creation of life beginning when a drop of water from the ice of Niflheim collides with a flame from the fire of Muspelheim and causes an explosion to create the universe and the Earth, with life upon it. The "big bang" theory has existed since before the dawn of recorded history. Imagine that -- if you are able.
Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.