You love the roses – so do I.
I wish The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush.
Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on.
They would fall as light As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be Like sleeping and like waking, all at once! ~
I make me a God I can pray to, or God makes me think that I do,
And is this unique? Maybe not.
It may be just nothing so new.
And shall I make prayers to this Wonder,
who will hear all these prayers I have made Because I am desperate and grieving or think that I’m ready to fade?
Will God be a man or a woman?
Or a kind Deity?
A warrior destroyer or only a voyeur?
Oh, what am I doing to me?
I’m making myself entirely dependent and needing God’s help all day long,
And before long, I’m working for God;
I’m weakly, and God is so strong.
Will God make me go into battle and kill those who do not believe,
That my God is great and mighty;
if you don’t praise God, you must leave.
When God is a person who listens,
God can make war or bring peace,
Shall I make God not a person?
Then, maybe warfare, it might cease.
Does all of existence just wrap us, inside of its tender embrace?
Ideas of God can be dangerous if we must rely on God’s grace.
Walk with me
I will teach you
Listen to me I will speak
Continue to meet Me, despite all opposition and every obstacle, despite the days you will not hear any voice, and there may come no intimate heart to heart telling
As you persist in this, and make a life habit of it, in many marvellous ways, I will reveal all My will to you
You will have a more sure way knowing of both the present and the future.
But that will be the only reward of the regular coming to meet Me
Life is a school
There are many teachers. Not to everyone do I come personally.
Belive, literally that the problems and difficulties of your lives can be explained by Me more clearly and effectually than by any other.
I AM HE⚜️
I love you before you where born ⚜️⚜️
What is life worth, if it must mean:
being as they are.
A boy scout’s not so bad, my friend,
and I could go quite far,
If I could take some decency,
a little there on board,
And be right satisfied,
with what I can afford.
Is life worth much,
if I must lose my principles and way,
Becoming as an angry mob, comforted by the fray,
The winning of a thousand wars and a hundred thousand hence,
Is never worth a moment in The Isle of The Dense?
I’d rather live one day right here and for the right to do,
What’s in my heart;
it’s undoubtedly right – for us,
that’s you and me.
I might be called too righteous,
but I think that it’s OK
If Hearts are pure;
I hope they’re good and never turn to grey.
I walked these streets with Martin, King. Luther was his name,
And we were dressed in tie and vest and played a straight game.
I’m sure if we are blessed by grace to pray among the wise,
Then we’ll stay true to old and new;
“Well done” is our surprise.
Let’s try to learn our lesson and never compromise,
And, even if we die right here, we might, to our surprise,
Find out that on a straight path,
there’s room in Paradise,
For staying true to old and new:
“Well done,” the best surprise.
“PERFECTION IS A VOTE FOR US!”
Why can’t we let perfection die?
Is it so hard to do?
Yes, it is because we’re always looking for “brand new.”
We think that brand new is better, and it can be attained,
Yet, every time we’ve tried for it, we exit over-strained.
On THIS side is perfection, or, perhaps, over there,
Perfect the martial art, and THEN, all clear will be our air.
Yet, living air is filled with flies, and pollen irritates.
We think that perfect is for us and disregard The Fates,
And fish don’t thrive in water that is too clean;
Perhaps perfection is the point which is not fat or lean.
The thing is we are guessers, guessing what is best,
Confident that we can figure things and pass the test.
I think that, once we pass the test, we want to do some more.
Eventually, to know all answers that are there in the store.
Existence is a laughing thing, that laughs at all our dreams,
Our perfect ways Existence slays, unravelling our seams.
Tears for America 😥
“Nonsense In America”
It’s just a bit of nonsense, in America, not profound,
Which masquerades as serious, but desecrates the ground.
Don’t let the turkeys come and get you down,
Like politicians, lawyers, doctors –
They will make you frown.
A black man’s killed, a white man too;
this is a good excuse, To pillage, burn and kill some more;
perfection’s on the loose.
Let’s be correct, where kindness is life’s one,
right, pure, useful purpose,
No more hunger, greed or need –
High standards can usurp us.
The disease will stop,
and life will flourish as soon as we get done,
With harmful pollution, wars and famine; are we having fun?
When you see monarchs in The White House and dementia in campaigns, Biden,
Pelosi, Don and Hillary – will take respective lanes.
America is full of nonsense, like treaties to surrender;
It’s comedy behind closed doors: jesters should not fight.
And life is nonsense in this place of cabbages and kings,
If you take America TOOseriously, heartache this thing brings.
So, take us with a grain of salt, about ten stories high.
The nonsense of America can make me cry.
America can be a force to help all humankind,
But to be great.
It must be good, or else It’s bloody blind.
So, come on, Old America and take a good lead,
To help all people and be kind;
PROgress is what we need.
Have you been wondering what your life’s work is? Look inside your heart…Your Life’s Work
One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamour of the city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley.
I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from touching the earth.
I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul – my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness.
I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when an hour, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a wreath of poppies about her golden hair suddenly appeared to me.
As she realized my astonishment, she greeted me saying,
“Fear me not; I am the Nymph of the Jungle.”
“How can beauty like yours be committed to living in this place?
Please tell me who you are, and whence you come?” I asked.
She sat gracefully on the green grass and responded, “I am the symbol of nature! I am the ever-virgin your forefathers
worshipped, and to my honour, they erected shrines and temples at Baalbek and Jbeil.” And I dared say, “But those temples and shrines were laid waste and the bones of my adoring ancestors became a part of the earth; nothing was left to commemorate their goddess save a pitiful few and the forgotten pages in the book of history.” She replied, “Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshippers and die in their deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite life.
My life is sustained by the world of beauty which you will see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature itself; it is the beginning of the shepherd’s joy among the hills, and a villagers happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe-filled tribes between the mountains and the plains.
This Beauty promotes the wise into the throne the truth.”
Then I said, “Beauty is a terrible power!” And she retorted, “Human beings fear all things, even yourselves.
InYou fear heaven, the source of spiritual peace; you fear nature, the haven of rest and tranquillity; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him of anger, while he is full of love and mercy.”
After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, “Speak to me of that beauty which the people interpret and define, each one according to his own conception; I have seen her honoured and worshipped in different ways and manners.” She answered, “Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.
When you meet Beauty, you feel that the hands deep within your inner self are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart.
It is the magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which you see, and the Vague which you understand, and the Mute which you hear – it is the Holy of Holies that begins in yourself and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination.”
Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented hands upon my eyes.
And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the valley.
When I returned to the city, whose turbulence no longer vexed me, I repeated her words:
“Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to receive.”
And a merchant said, “Speak to us of Buying and Selling.” And he answered and said: To you, the earth yields her fruit, and you shall not want if you but know how to fill your hands. It is in exchanging the gifts of the land that you shall find abundance and be satisfied. Yet unless the exchange is in love and kindly justice, it will but lead some to greed and others to hunger. When in the market place you toilers of the sea and fields and vineyards meet the weavers and the potters and the gatherers of spices, – Invoke then the master spirit of the earth, to come into your midst and sanctify the scales and the reckoning that weighs value against value. And suffer not the barren-handed to take part in your transactions, who would sell their words for your labour. To such men you should say, “Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net; For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us.” And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, – buy of their gifts also. For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though fashioned of dreams, is clothing and food for your soul. And before you leave the marketplace, see that no one has gone his way with empty hands. For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind until the needs of the least of you are satisfied. ~ – Khalil Gibran