To Build A Home

There’s something about the cinematic orchestra that makes all ties cut lose, lift the atmosphere with their husky tones and breaks barriers that were once in breakable. To build a home is possibly my all time favourite song, from the excitement caused by the repetition of the low growl of notes at the beginning through to the moment his voice cuts through.   It’s a piece of art that builds from the very beginning to the finish, it has purpose and it’s build up reflects the lyrics so strongly.

It may not fulfill what everyone looks for in a piece of music but the combination of strings, piano and that voice, could never fail.

Out in the garden where we planted the seeds
There is a tree that’s old as me
Branches were sewn by the colour of green
Ground had arose and passed its knees


I know that to compose music there must be meaning, passion and soul. That’s what makes this piece so delicious yet peaceful. The lyrics provoke thought yet relate to the desires so many of us face.

To me, this song isn’t just about building a home, it’s about planting seeds for the future and not worrying how it will end up. It’s the hope of a home, somewhere you can return to after the worst possible day, delirious from stress yet one place remains constant. Home will always be where the heart lies, for anyone can own a house but a house lacks meaning, a home releases memories, tears and  laughter, a future and a past. Somewhere that bursts life even in the drizzliest of minutes, when bags are packed and you are intent on leaving. Everyone needs that stability.
By the cracks of his skin I climbed to the top
I climbed the tree to see the world
When the gusts came around to blow me down
Held on as tightly as you held on to me

A home is that paternal figure that tucks you up at night, that tells you stories and wraps you up on a frosty evening. It’s always there, even when you’re off seeking success or a better life. It is a place to return to no matter what. Reliable. Constant. Eternal. The words that describe a home. It may not be an ever present building, it may be just a memory, for a home is not whats material but what is inside.
Frequently I listen to music repetitively, up until the point of no return where the love you once shared is unrecognisable. This will never be one of them. A timeless classic.


Cinematic orchestra –



Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.



Procrastination during revision seems to occur more often than not so whilst revising history the words of Wilfred Owen sprang to mind. Dulce et decorum est is probably one of the most renown poems of the First World War and each word contradicts the positive yet naive perception of the poems title. This led me to think, how often do we find ourselves entering something where our perceptions of what it is are a far cry from the reality of the situation we have let ourselves in for. Very rarely have I encountered a situation where I have predicted the outcome, but instead witnessed something that has shaped me as a person. Each event of our lives is shaped by the unpredictability of what is to come, I for one wouldn’t want it any different. To go through life, taking each obstacle as it comes is far better than to expect and be let down when the outcome isn’t quite as you had hoped. 

Taking this into account, Wilfred Owen couldn’t possibly have believed he would die in Flanders Fields, if he had surely he wouldn’t have enlisted himself in the army but by him being in that place something so marvelous as the literary works which were formulated deep in the trenches were created. In addition, he would never have met Siegfried who influenced him so greatly. Wilfred could never have predicted such an effect from one simple choice of leaving his family to enter the war. By doing so we not only gained an inspiration but he lost his life.  

Choices. We all have to make them and sometimes what may seem like the end of the world to one has the counter effect for another. A lot of the time its hard to realise the effect we have on others from the choices we make but they are real and they are inevitable. Wilfred’s choice was selfless, patriotic and yet ended in the undesired but by doing so, millions of people have experienced life in the trenches, the horror, as if we were there ourselves.  I for one am truly grateful for the opportunities that present themselves in my life and I struggle to understand the effect simple actions of my own can have on others. With years comes experience, knowledge and such realisation.  

It’s difficult to not dwell on the ‘might have been’ and the ‘should have happened’. What would have happened if Wilfred had survived through the armistice.  Would his poetry have been appreciated in the same light or do we take into account the loss of life and lament in each word to create such meaning and profanity? Taking this further, what would it have meant to him if World War One hadn’t even broken out, would he have still written and what about? There is no simple explanation to why lives establish as they do but even if we knew, it is uncontrollable. 

Wilfred Owen is an inspirational writer and as historians have stated, one of the leading World War One poets to which i fondly agree. I hope the opportunities that present themselves in my life time will influence others, just as Wilfred’s, unknown to himself, have influenced thousands.