Notes From a Different Spring

 “Alone”

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

From childhood’s hour I have not been 

As others were—I have not seen 

As others saw—I could not bring 

My passions from a common spring— 

From the same source I have not taken 

My sorrow—I could not awaken 

My heart to joy at the same tone— 

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— 

Then—in my childhood—in the dawn 

Of a most stormy life—was drawn 

From ev’ry depth of good and ill 

The mystery which binds me still— 

From the torrent, or the fountain— 

From the red cliff of the mountain— 

From the sun that ’round me roll’d 

In its autumn tint of gold— 

From the lightning in the sky 

As it pass’d me flying by— 

From the thunder, and the storm— 

And the cloud that took the form 

(When the rest of Heaven was blue) 

Of a demon in my view—

This poem by Edgar Allan Poe has played on repeat in the back of my mind, a haunting refrain I’ve never quite been able to mute. Its themes of loneliness, dissonance, and feeling out of tune with the world have accompanied much of my life. From my earliest verses to the bridge I'm living now, I’ve struggled to find harmony in the spaces around me. Even when I think I’ve found my people, there’s often a flat note in the chord, a subtle off-beat that reminds me I’m not quite in sync.

Is that just part of the human song? Maybe. I like to think it’s partly the result of my own unique rhythm as well as my neurodivergent melody, full of impulsive key changes and unexpected time signatures. But then again, aren’t we all soloists in our own way? Each composed of experiences and timbres that no one else can replicate. And yet… if we’re all created in God’s image, doesn’t that make us part of some divine symphony?

I’m not sure where this thought progresion resolves but maybe that’s the point. Not every passage needs resolution—some notes are meant to drone on.

Now to change the key: today is beautiful. A soft prelude plays in the breeze as I watch the early morning dog-walkers. I can almost hear their footsteps like a quiet percussion line. I wish Penny were here to walk beside me, tail wagging. She deserves more than the Texas relentless heat, she deserves cool, melodic mornings like this one.

Anyway, that’s my improvisation for the day. Thanks for stopping by my very short TED Talk—LOL. Or maybe it’s more of a lo-fi spoken word track. Either way, thanks for reading.