"I was standing upright a short while ago
Breathing deeply, feeling content
Each blade of grass in its proper place
My life complete and secure
Then you came about
Weapons of great impact glistening with intent
Proof that, though decidedly satisfied
There was something more
Something I couldn�t hope to fend off
And all at once, with a great heave
The ground beneath gave way
I tumbled to the earth
Helpless, vulnerable
As your words passed through me
As your truths blitzed my soul
I cried
And lying there, gawking
My ignorance cracked, then splintered, then crumbled around me
I realized it was not your intent to harm
But to enlighten
To empower
To raze my former misconceptions
A cleansing and taxing hemorrhage of my whole
Bruised, battered, satisfied
I gathered myself off the ground
Brushing a sparse bit of doubt from my sleeve
And, smiling
Turned the page"

-- Untitled, by Kyle Winder

Hi everybody. I've been reading this message board for a while now, and am enthralled by the thriving minds and personas influenced by Mr. Bradbury. I figured I would elbow my way onto the message board with a poem I wrote. I'm not sure that it's complete, but it's a summary of just what Ray has done to me. Sometimes I'd like to curse him for helping me see the light (the old "ignorance is bliss, so I'm the happiest man in the world" dilemma), but more often than not, I would like to shake his hand and offer my thanks.

With each thread I read, I am reminded just why I love literature in the first place. That tingling of the spine reaffirms my knowledge that a life of societal opiates (television, materialism, sex, to name a few) will never satiate my want for all things both beautiful and horrid.

Thank you for your ideas, your passions, and your minds.

Anybody else have a similar moment of truth? I hardly think I'm the only one...

[This message has been edited by fascination (edited 12-18-2002).]

Good poem and thoughts. I enjoyed reading them.

My "moment of truth" is still ongoing (more like "moments" of truth), but was most definitely kicked off by Ray Bradbury. I was not happy and ignorant, however; I was kind of "is this all there is?" ignorant. It was a kind of an ethereal feeling, though. No heavy depression or existentialist angst or anything like that.

As I've mentioned in other postings, how Bradbury inspired me was in showing me that the "is that all there is?" question is answered in a resounding "NO!". What I discovered in my ninth grade reading of Farenheit 451 was that "ideas" is what there was. This idea that ideas mattered took hold of me in my reading of F451. And this realization changed my life. Bradbury's ability to fuse fiction with significant ideas about the human condition turned me on to life. Thirty years later, with Masters Degrees in both English and Philsophy, I continue to be turned on by ideas.

I continue to have "moments of truth" where I discover some new aspect of what it is to be human. To see some new perspective on how we can add real value to the world we live in. To get some new understanding on the role of religion in man's self-identity. To ride along while philosphy challenges and defines our assumptions about what our lives mean, how we find community, and what kinds of ethical assumptions should be guiding our lives.

These kinds of moments of truth are ongoing. For me, however, Ray Bradbury kicked this all off by showing me the value of ideas.