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It’s A
weaving of words

Part the IV

By:
Caleb Alan Kestner
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It’s A
weaving of words

Part the IV

By:
Caleb Alan Kestner
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This book is dedicated to my Mom

Who gave me words.
Thank you.
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Copyright © 2009 by Caleb Kestner.

All Rights Reserved.

2nd Story Press

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Printed in the United States

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Contents
IiiXXXX. I are . . . I am
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~12

iiXXXXI. If
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~14

iiiXXXXII. It’s
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~17

iiXXXXIII. Fallen
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~18

iiXXXXIV. Ode to an Ode

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~21

iiiXXXXV. Once Upon a Time

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~22

iiXXXXVI. What happens once you’ve fallen?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~24

iXXXXVII. Wall
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~27

XXXXVIII. Mountain
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~28

iiXXXXIX. Who am I?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~30

iiiiiiiiiiiiiL. Pro Crastinator

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~33

iiiiiiiiiiiiLI. Blessed About the Author

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~35 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~39

iiiiiiiiiiiLII. Goodnight my Love Acknowledgments

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~36 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~41
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“If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.”

Lewis Carroll
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I are shattered I are . . . I am

fragment
splinter
I am the cold
frozen
winter
I are inferno
fire
ashes
I am shackles
chains and
lashes
I are heartache
wailing
sorrow
I am future
past and
morrow
I are hopeless
weeping
sadness
I am passion
rage and
madness
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I are beauty
fleeting
shallow
I am careless
stark and
callow
I are conquered
cringing
choice-less
I am silent
mute and
voiceless
I are teardrops
softly
crying
I am the dead
doomed and
dying
I are human
broken
grieving
I am my own
ending
weaving
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If

If poems were of poetry as woods were of trees

If sound were of music as air is of breeze

If joy was of laughter as hurt was of tears

If hope were courage as hate is of fear

If food was of hunger as thirst was of drink

If taught were of learning as thought is of think

If life were of living as dead was of death

If heart was of blood as lung is of breath

If angels were of heaven as demons were of hell

If touch were of feeling as taste was of smell

If people were of right as humans were of wrong

If beauty were of souls as rhyme was of song

If give was of giving as took was of take

If words were of truth as build was of make

If this was of that as that was of this

Then the world would be perfect and all of life bliss
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It’s

Peace isn’t quiet; it’s noise you don’t hear

Courage isn’t brave, it’s pain you don’t fear

Mercy isn’t weak; it’s the strength to forgive

Hope isn’t assurance; it’s the will to live

Good isn’t perfect, it’s striving to rise

Honesty isn’t truth; it’s exposing the lies

Wisdom isn’t knowledge, it’s understanding why

Belief isn‘t comfort; it’s willingness to die

Leading isn’t commanding, it’s serving those you lead

Charity isn‘t handouts; it’s helping those in need

Faith isn’t knowing, it’s acting when you don’t

Love isn’t if they do, it’s even when they won’t

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Fallen
By: Caleb Kestner

Falling mirror, slipping through the sky

Dead reflections, never think to question why

Spilling spirals, shattered glass evokes no tears

Greed and hatred, serving banquets of their fears

Murder Martyr, fallen people die to live

Victim Target, hearts too broken to forgive

Once forgotten, memory forgets once more

Perceptions clouded, lives wrapped up in pointless war

Hate breeds death and death breeds hate

Never ending circle, self-fulfilling fate

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Ode to an Ode

O ode thou wondrous words amaze

And lyrical lines astound

From Grecian days long lost in time

Resounds your pulsing sound

Poetic verse from days of yore

A voice that echoes still

Crash like waves on histories shore

A synthesis of will

Melodic beauty sweet and pure

The music of the spheres

Tragic pain that dares endure

The basis of our fears

The power of the mind made free

Laid out upon a page

Vision even blind men see

The workings of a sage

O ode thy legacy still stands

Though years have gone and come

The majesty of all that is

Existence's very sum

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Once upon a time: (Poetry from Photography class)

By: Myself and “mmm…coffee”
(Recomposed by: Me)

Once upon a time,

a time so long ago
There lived a thing called pumperfumps
that liked to stand in rows
These curious things (called pumpfs for short)
could come in kinds of every sort
Hardly old or softly new
polka dotted, pink or blue
Turquoise, yellow, short or tubby
mauve or mink or tall or stubby
Wearing charms or maybe roses
on their arms or tween their toeses
They paint a quite perplexing picture
these pumpfs that come in such a mixture
Dancing, bouncing throwing ducks
(If you rub them they bring luck!)
Falling up and hopping down
Making noise (without a sound)
See them running up the tree
Then right back down (they quickly flee)
Watch them roll among the flowers
Back and forth for many hours
Tossing tulips, squishing daises
Chasing stars (they’re very lazy)
And of course when days are done
to their gumdings they will run
What are Gumdings? You may ask
Answering that’s mmm…coffee’s task
Gumdings are things very hard to explain
They’re totally different but all still the same
They’re kind of like beds and they smell really sweet
They have nice looking hands for the rubbing of feet
Gumdings are spun from big sugar canes
And they all smell like brownies if ever it rains
But enough about Gumdings
lets us move on
To talk of a frog and a small pumpf named Ron
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The frog was tiny (about 50 pounds)

The pumpf was squishy (and incredibly round)
For something named Ron it made quite a weird sound
Ron what a word
It’s amazingly flat
It sounds like a monkey
That looks like a hat
Now a Ron that’s named pumpf
Or a pumpf that named Ron
Are interiorly different
(Except for in song)
When explaining them both
Or explaining them one
You must start at the start
And go till your done
Now the problem with me
(As you well may not know)
I forgot where I start
And don’t know where to go
So explaining them both
I could never well do
And explaining them one
Is a big problem too
There’s much more to write
But I fear I must quit
For the rest of this poem
Was quite lacking in wit
In our rush to waste time
We both overextended
So the half a page left
is too much to be mended
So with that and with this
I’ll now call it a day
I’ve re-said what I said
And I’ve naught left to say
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What Happens
Once
You've fallen?

What happens once you've fallen?

What happens once you fail?
Success no longer possible
your heart in shame is veiled
What happens when you've given up
and ceded to your fears?
When hope fades like the morning mist
and pain transforms to tears.
What happens when you lose the fight
and know you've lost much more?
When the battle finally gets you
in this never ending war.
And how are you supposed to cope
when you know it's all been lost?
When you pay the price for what you want
and it isn't worth the cost.
Where do you go or turn to
when the world has turned on you?
When all you've givens not enough
and there's nothing more to do.
You recognize that all will fall
though each in their own way.
You stand with calm assurance
that they've not yet won the day.
And though it seems that all is lost
and hope itself has fled.
As long as you've the strength to rise
redemption isn't dead.
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Wall
Once upon a midnight dreary
Came a traveler wet and weary
His cloak was sodden through and through
Upon his feet more holes then shoe
The road was rough the ground was stony
The man was thin and rather bony
Then all at once the road just ended
His journey stopped his quest suspended
A giant wall stood in his way
As tall as night as long as day
So there he sat to ponder and wonder what to do
To pass this insurmountable obstruction of his view
There was no wood within this wall, nor brick or rock or steel
For it was made of stronger things then those material
This wall was made of all in life that strives to make you fail
Of pain and lies and hardship of dead and rot and stale
At first the man was locked with fear immobilized by shame
A thousand things that he’d done wrong all rushed to fill his brain
Then as he sat there shaking a shudder shook the wall
Its surface started cracking and chunks began to fall
Then with a sigh of effort the man rose to his feet
He’d come too far and worked to long to let himself be beat
So with a mighty crash the wall did rend its self-apart
And the man strode once more onward through the walls now broken heart
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Mountain

Wrinkled stone sags gently down the mountain's aged face, tufts of snowy hair

stream down his craggy chin and pool softly at his feet

Cavernous lungs pull moist air in through limestone teeth and moss-lined nostrils

to feed his golden veins

All across the mountain a cloak of life blooms and flourishes, entire lifetimes

cascading in and out of existence between the beats of his heart

The mountain sleeps; a giant who dreams of far off places and tells himself that in

a moment he'll rise from the cradle of his birth, stretching out the ridges of his skin

and the granite peaks of his spine

In a moment his eyelids will crack open with a rumble, pine tree lashes fluttering

as he looks with sliver eyes at the world for the first time

In a moment he'll shake off the residue of his creation and with thundering steps

go explore this place that gave him life just moments before

In a moment he thinks to himself as his heart continues its steady beat

In a moment he thinks as he slips slowly back into his dreams

In a moment, as all around him life rushes on

In a moment…
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Who am I?

Who am I? I wonder.
and whence from have I come?

What is it I’m doing?

and when will I be done?

Where to am I going?
and when will I arrive?

What for am I living?

and what for should I strive?

What is it I’m writing?

and have yet still to write?

What is it I’m fighting?

and have yet still to fight?

When will true love find me?

and how then will I know?

Where is love to lead me?

and will I dare to go?

Who am I affecting?
and who’s affecting me?

What then is my blindness?

and what is it I see?

What have I to finish?

and what have I to start

What was it that made me?

And brought to life my heart?

Who am I? I wonder.
and what will be the sum?
of all that I’ve accomplished,
when at last my time has come.
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Pro Crastinator

Yet again behind I scramble

Even my mad dash an amble

Moments left I still waste time

Spinning pointless bits of rhyme

Always later I endeavor

Striving then, achieving never

Running just to keep from moving

Maintenance consumes improving

All again commitments making

Ever then again them flaking

Of the future ever dreaming

Time betwixt my fingers streaming

Late and lacking deadline looming

Me myself I'm quickly dooming

Always just a moment more

Till the effort I endure

Until there is no time to waste

My hands lethargic move to haste

Wishing that I could better be

and cure these faults that lie in me

Hoping that I might find someway

to work before the final day

But as I wish and hope such things

time flits away on gilded wings
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Blessing

I pray for Gods blessing on all that you do

Clear sight for your eyes and a path ever true

I pray you accomplish each task your soul gets

Content with your work when the sun finally sets

I hope for your dreams that you’ll always aspire

That you still feel Gods presence though the times may be dire

That you live every moment and spend every day

That you hoard up life’s treasures then give them away

I pray for you safety until you return

That you grow from life’s lessens and teach what you learn

Remember that while you may be far from here

Through the memories you leave you will always be near

And as time marches on of this always be sure

The love that you give will forever endure

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Goodnight my love

Goodnight my love it’s time to sleep

and leave the world behind

To free yourself from all life’s pain

and clear your burdened mind

Goodnight my love it’s time to sleep

and rest forevermore

To fly beyond the gleaming stars

and dance on heaven’s floor

Goodnight my love it’s time to sleep

the angels wait for you

You’ll never be forgotten

for the life you lived was true

Goodnight my love it’s time to sleep

your work at last is done

And though the day is finished

the dream is just begun

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About the Author

Caleb Kestner was born on his birthday and has been himself ever since. He is
currently residing where he is and will most likely stay there until he goes somewhere
else. He, like most people, never reads the parts of a book that start with Preface,
Afterword, Introduction, Foreword, Acknowledgements, or About the Author. Therefore
he has decided to not waste his time and will instead provide you with an excerpt from
Ebenezer Cunningham’s On the Electromagnetic Mass of a Moving Electron “It is
perhaps worth noting that "the principle of relativity" propounded by Bucherer in the
Phil. Mag. of April 1907 is in essence identical with the statement made in the beginning
of this paper. The principle referred to may be stated thus : that in the sequence of
electromagnetic phenomena the giving of an additional uniform translational velocity v to
the whole system of electric and magnetic bodies will not affect the phenomena observed
if this velocity v is at the same time given to the observer. The transformation of space
and time variables mentioned above shows a means of explaining this dependence of the
electromagnetic phenomena on relative motion only; and conversely it is a comparatively
simple matter to show that it is the only means. For it is required, among other things, to
explain how a light-wave travelling outwards in all directions with velocity C relative to
an observer A, may at the same time be travelling outwards in all directions with the
same velocity relative to an observer B moving relative to A with velocity v.” If at this
point you are still reading you are to be commended (but probably won’t be), unless of
course you skimmed to the end, realized that at some point I’d begun writing again and
just backtracked until you found where I’d started up again. In that case you should be
flogged for blatant disregard of superfluous-section-of-the-book reading etiquette (but
probably won’t be). This is Caleb’s first literary work and like most of his endeavors is
the result of many years worth of seemingly endless effort and consternation that came to
a rapid conclusion about a day after he actually started working on it. That being said,
much effort, time, thought, and most importantly inspiration, went into creating this work
of words and he would be remiss if he didn’t acknowledge the many manifold minds who
helped him along the way. Please turn the page. Unless the you just skipped down to
this point to see if the discussion of electromagnetic electron masses went all the way to
the end, then you should go back and work your way through like everyone else. If I can
take the time to copy and pa…I mean, “write” it you can take the time to read it!
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Acknowledgments
First off let me just say if I forget to mention you, it’s probably because you
didn’t matter enough for me to remember, no I’m sure you matter . . . to someone ;P.
Honestly though, I’m only going to focus on people who effected, influenced and
inspired my writing (that I was able to remember, ok, ok, I’ll stop). Anyway here goes,
thank you with all that I am for all that you’ve been.
Joanna for being the rubber wall I could bounce my concrete ideas off of. Jill for
believing I could measure up to my imagination, and in doing so giving me the
confidence to try. Jeremiah for being a porcupine patch farming communist and the
perfect devils advocate. David N. for getting paper cuts. Natalie for the magnificence
that is “The Duo!”. “The Joshness” for believing our genes combined can conquer the
world! (Provided yours don’t by osmosis.) John for being an outgoing, hilarious,
musical genius, so that I didn’t have to, and could just use you. James for wanting to
read my stuff more then I wanted to write it. Molly for proving that Disco isn’t dead.
Nathan for being a Kestner (seniority or not). Josh Anderson for moving up here, getting
five jobs, and giving me all the money so I can kick start my writing career (wink, wink,
nudge, nudge). Dayna for being so agreeable when it comes to disagreeing. Naomi for
being the smartest person I know . . . who thought Canada was a state. Ben for giving me
two nephews and another brother. April for buying this book (on the off chance I ever
find away of selling it to you). Marcus Dee, you better get your butt moving and start
hanging out with me so I’ll have something to mention in vol. 2. Raquel and Aunt Betsy,
how could one not be influenced by you. Cheri for the support and affirmation, now, and
as far back as I can remember. And for creating a family as awesome as my own
(Keitzells forever!). Calli for giving me somebody to confuse. Rachael Metcalf-Bernard,
for commenting, encouraging, and being Metcalf. The O’Connor Clan, and all the other
Kestner’s (including the honorary ones) for giving me a legacy to be part of. Finally, and
most importantly Mary Jane and Kevin Jay, not only are you the reason I exist, you’re the
reasons for my existence. You are all that I am, and all that I aspire to be. Dad you are
the greatest user of words I know, but even if you weren’t you’re strength of character
gives more worth to you’re words then the most brilliant of wordsmiths could ever hope
to achieve. You’ve shown me ways to use words that I never dreamed were possible
(most of them probably shouldn’t be). You are the giant upon whose shoulders I’m
standing. Mom, Dad may have given me something to aspire to but you gave me
something to aspire with. Every great achievement in my life is built on the foundations
of your efforts. You have poured more blood, sweat and tears into my life then any could
ever dare to hope for. From the very depths of my soul thank you. And thank you once
again to those mentioned, unmentioned and to be mentioned. This Oscar means the
world to me, oh wait crap, wrong speech.
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It’s Over!
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Seriously, that’s it I didn’t write anything else for you to read.

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Why are you still here! I told you there’s

nothing else. Go away!
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Ok, you know what, fine, keep flipping pages,

I don’t even care.
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Told you