"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary..."
Today marks 202 years since the birth of Edgar Allan Poe. Had he survived more than his 40 short years, one can not imagine the depths his darkness might have reached. He was the godfather of macabre fiction, the grandfather of the short story and the credited progenitor of the detective-fiction genre.
Death followed him like an ever-present shadow, taking more than its fair share of loved ones from his side more quickly than it should. And leaving nothing for him but the bitter, empty, hollow of despair.
But, instead of hiding from or denying the tragedies he endured, Poe chose to wrap his emotions in the twists of plot--- giving voice to his personal demons and a refuge for others as they wrestled with their own. There have been very few creative avenues that haven't been touched by the genius of Edgar Allan Poe--- from poetry to fiction, from art to movies--- his stories have lent themselves readily to an ever-hungry audience.
Man's mortality is a grave and difficult subject. An end that we all must face, regardless of how strongly we wish to avoid it. The fear, the uncertainty...the finality, such desperate feelings threaten to consume even the hardiest of folk.
Yet, there is some comfort in the despairing words of one who has endured as Poe had. His words remind us that there is no escape, his words remind us that we all must endure. There is no use in fearing what you can not avoid. There will be no way to prevent the end from coming. We all must come to the final day, we all must come to the final breath.
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted-- Nevermore!"
Today marks 202 years since the birth of Edgar Allan Poe. Had he survived more than his 40 short years, one can not imagine the depths his darkness might have reached. He was the godfather of macabre fiction, the grandfather of the short story and the credited progenitor of the detective-fiction genre.
Death followed him like an ever-present shadow, taking more than its fair share of loved ones from his side more quickly than it should. And leaving nothing for him but the bitter, empty, hollow of despair.
But, instead of hiding from or denying the tragedies he endured, Poe chose to wrap his emotions in the twists of plot--- giving voice to his personal demons and a refuge for others as they wrestled with their own. There have been very few creative avenues that haven't been touched by the genius of Edgar Allan Poe--- from poetry to fiction, from art to movies--- his stories have lent themselves readily to an ever-hungry audience.
Man's mortality is a grave and difficult subject. An end that we all must face, regardless of how strongly we wish to avoid it. The fear, the uncertainty...the finality, such desperate feelings threaten to consume even the hardiest of folk.
Yet, there is some comfort in the despairing words of one who has endured as Poe had. His words remind us that there is no escape, his words remind us that we all must endure. There is no use in fearing what you can not avoid. There will be no way to prevent the end from coming. We all must come to the final day, we all must come to the final breath.
"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted-- Nevermore!"
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