The Man Who Sold The World

This Wilderness

I am unworthy of this wilderness,
a majesty too great for kings,
lakes and rivers, wide as dreams,
moving faster than my words.

Humbled by this wilderness,
I have so little left to hold,
so few are these my last provisions
I am but a guest out here.

I am so small beneath these tall trees;
some fall hard as others rise.
High winds lift them up around me;
drum beat step in their own time.

Bright sun sneaks to hide each day,
so stars more brilliantly can shine
with dancing native spirit skies.
a calming balm for anxious souls.

Nothing distracts me but these sounds
in quiet nights, when stillness cries,
'Forget each second, minute, day
To treasure what is to be found.'

Respect the fire-maker's food
and all the skills that bring us here,
yet in the dark, I'll hide ‘til sleep
my sharper senses softly stills.

I am so small in this big wilderness.
It is much stronger than I am,
yet it has shared its two-edged kindness
as it has wrapped me in its will.

It calls me back each year to start
again to find what days forget,
far away from this great wonder
lessons by its harshness taught.

It is not easy in this wilderness -
I know enough to stand in awe;
I am not worthy of this wilderness,
but still it calls me, calls me, calls me

Above is a poem called The Wilderness by L C Vieira.

This poem relates to Chris because he wants to go on an adventure, escape this life he lived. He wanted to leave society behind and just live they way he wanted. This poem states that the wilderness calls to the author just like Chris McCandless was driven to the wild. The author talks about how the wilderness is too beautiful and they shouldn't be worthy of it. How it's not easy to live out there but they know enough to stay alive, and that's how Chris went upon his journey. He knew enough to survive and had the detecation to try and make it through.




Alone
Edgar Allan Poe [1829]

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 most stormy life- was dawn
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-
From the thunder, and the storm-
And the cloud that took the form
(When all the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

This poem relates to Chris McCandless because he never saw the world the way his parents saw it. They would buy him expensive things, offer gifts, eat at an elegant place and he wouldn't like it. He saw money as something that controlled everything and he didn't like the way society was.
"From  childhood's hour I have not been 
As others were- I have not seen
As others saw-" 
This particular part made me think of the way Chris might have felt. He didn't understand why everyone was the way they were. He wanted to be free from society, away from everything that brought this world to the mess it is today.