Edgar Allan Poe

Whatever did happen to that Raven? That Raven who came rapping, rapping at the chamber door?

Did that man lay napping? Waiting to be washed away by the Night’s Plutonian waves lapping?

Did he hope for the lost Lenore? The lush, luxurious Lenore whom the Raven stated in a hush that would be seen “Nevermore?”

In that dark chamber in the bleak of December, that man did lie, so long that he believed that before long the Raven would die,

and return to the depths of whatever hell spawned him. The heated, hell-fire depths of whatever hell did spawn him.

Only after the dripping of time did the drapes seem to rise, a golden ray of Heaven came slipping,

Slipping in as a sharp sliver across the floor of the dark chamber which was still filled with the putrid air of bleak December.

It rose along the man like the finger of an angel, tracing, pacing around the floor, waiting for the man or Raven to seek their place on the Night’s Plutonian shore.

The man must have felt the warmth, the thick lick of warmth which he hadn’t felt permeate the skin of his kin since he last saw Lenore.

Lenore? Could the warmth be the embrace of the lost Lenore? The light is the face of the embrace of Lenore?

The dreaded thing began filling his heart, painfully expanding its walls attempting to push out the tyrannical darkness residing there from the start.

“What is this feeling that’s peeling at the brimming hole in my heart? ’Tis be hope of my lovely lost Lenore returning the lost fragment of my heart?”

He lifted his heavy head, turning towards the light resting on an air bed. The dread building, light scalding the eyes of the hoping man.

Then from its perch upon the bust, the Raven spreads its wings beginning to search for flight at the sight of the light.

Its scream forms a horrendous beam of reality which stabs the ears and threaten to rip the thin seam of sanity,

and from its scream it shatters the sense of hope as the Raven’s scream forms a horrendous beam, tossing the man back across the floor

as the Raven reminds him of his message: “Nevermore”

He was not what I expected a genie to look like. Rather than being big and blue like the one from Aladdin, or dark and mysterious like the ones in horror movies, this genie looked...normal. Sure, he flew from the golden lamp through a puff of purple smoke, but he was just your average Joe. Literally, his name was Joe. Tall, lean but muscular, dark hair, dark eyes; I thought he was hot, but that's a bridge I don't think I'll ever cross. While my eyes were hopelessly gazing into his, he forced me to focus on his deep voice as he spoke. Thankfully, the puff of smoke startled me off of the crowded city sidewalk, and into the confines of the small, vacant lobby of my apartment complex. I don't know if anyone saw him appear, but judging by the lack of phones pressed up against the windows, he seemed to have appeared unseen.

"Like the passing of time, my presence is quick and fleeting. You must make a wish, or lose the opportunity to the uncontrollable confines of time,"

"Can I wish for anything?" I asked, my voice trembling from what could have been excitement or fear, for I could not tell the difference.

"I may only solve problems, so please be wise." He replied, his eyes soft and earnest, as though he had witnessed many before me wish for fame, fortune, love; the selfishness of humanity. I could imagine it: person after person rubbing the lamp to find a genie who could solve any problem in the universe, and all they could think up was the petty problems in their own lives. He would appear in warzones with generals wishing for their 'problem' of an enemy to vanish, a victory, or more bloodshed while he glanced out at the young children who would have wished for the fighting to end. I knew he wasn't immune to the problems in the world, he just needed someone to see it as clearly as he, and wish for it to be fixed. It was the selfishness of humanity, and the look in his eyes, which brought my decision to light.

"I wish for..." I hesitated, for phrasing was vital. What did I want? World peace? That's too general. Biting my lip, I looked down, attempting to work through the words and phrases in my mind, hoping that I wouldn't throw away this opportunity because of my incessant overthinking.

"I wish that everyone in the world would act in accordance with the kindness in their hearts, rather than the selfishness within their minds." I finally concluded, looking back to the handsome genie with a smile. I found him returning my smile, his eyes bright with hope as he nodded his head and raised his hand.

"Thank you." He snapped his fingers and vanished along with his lamp into thin air.

"You're welcome," I replied to the empty silence.

It was yet another sleepless night as I stared up at the ceiling in silence. My mind whirled with sentences in foreign languages, and information about our Founding Fathers. I knew then that no sleep would come to soothe my pounding head and burning eyes, but that was no different than usual; I slid out from under the thin sheets I was buried under, finding them much colder than they should have been. Quietly, I padded across my room and sat down beside the radiator that was ticking and banging, but creating a comforting warmth as I looked up and out at the darkened sky outside. I started to think about how worthless my troubles were, and how that one day millions of years from now my stress, and my hard work would all have been for nothing. I started to think about why all this worthless struggle had any meaning at all, and almost like the lights of a car piercing the night air, I finally realized.

I was created out of the same dust, and debris that created the stars, the moon, and the planets. I was created out of the same materials as the universe itself. I breathe the same air as the trees, and the hibernating squirrels, and the birds that sing outside my window at four o’clock in the morning. The universe is the most important creation that has ever been; it was the creation that created all other creation. Without it, nothing would be here; we wouldn’t be here. I started to realize that since we are a part of such an important piece of creation, we must be important too. What would the universe be without the creation it brought with it? I am a part of something much bigger, much more important than anything else that could ever exist. I am part of the universe; we are made of the universe. If that doesn’t make us significant, I don’t know what will.

There are so many people that see humans as being above nature, beyond nature’s laws. If they would take the time to look out their windows and think about the world, they would realize that we aren’t above nature, we are what defines nature. If one believes in such things, we were once something else. Humans were primates, and before that we were reptiles, and if we could trace our heritage back billions of years, we would find ourselves to be plants. We were the basis of what nature developed from. We are the product of development, and evolution, and without us there wouldn’t be anything we have today. The universe would not contain the assets of creation it brought with it. I am a pawn, a key piece in the game of evolution, of development. I am continuing the process of change, and so is everyone else in this universe. We are all products and agents of change, whether we desire to be or not. Each and every one of us are important to the cause of change; without diversity, we would forever be humans, identical, and unchanging. We have grown from plants to insects, from insects to reptiles, and so on, and now we’re part of a new adventure; a new revolution that may take billions of years to complete.

As I sit under the window near the comforting warmth of the radiator, I finally saw why my struggles, and fears were no longer worthless. I am creating a story, a special story that will never be recreated. I am leaving my own unique mark on the universe because I am a part of it. I am made of it. We are changing the universe by making mistakes, and taking chances, and shedding tears, and laughing until we wet ourselves. Each struggle changes the universe because we are the universe. Call me a Modern-Transcendentalist, but if this gives me hope, then it might provide the same feeling for someone else. We are made of the same dust as the Earth, and if one person changes…doesn’t that mean they changed the world? If that’s not something worth living for, I don’t know what is.