Featured Post

I love you. My Meditations.

A collection of memoirs, musings and lessons as I go through life. A compilation of notes to self, a dossier documenting experiences in this...

Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, March 13, 2025

Embracing The Tears

Landing the Boat -Chang Fee Ming, Watercolour on paper. 55x75cm.








Embracing The Tears - A Poem

A sarong in my hands. 

Soft, like a memory,  

Whole, pristine, unmarked, 

A promise of untouched tomorrows.  

 

 Life happens,  

And the threads begin to fray.  

The first tear is barely noticed,  

Like a whisper in a storm, 

 

A fleeting touch, a moment of discomfort.  

But the fabric doesn’t protest.  

It keeps moving forward, 

Carrying the weight of the world.

 

We are all born with a perfect sarong,  

But time knows no tenderness. It pulls and tugs,  

Rips and stretches leaves us exposed and raw,  

Vulnerable in the truth of our humanity.  

 

Each tear is a lesson, 

Each fray, a memory.  

The fabric of life isn’t meant to stay unbroken,  

But to be worn with purpose. 

To be stitched with intention.

 

I once feared the rips 

Thought they were failures, 

Thought they meant the end. 

But now, I see it clearly 

The tears are where the light shines through.  

It’s where the beauty lives.


I’ve learned to stitch the sarong of my soul,  

To weave my brokenness into a tapestry of strength.  

To patch the places that have been torn,  

Not with shame, but with pride,  

For the fabric I carry is no longer perfect,  

But it is real. It is mine.

 

I’ll wear the sarong with all its holes,  

Its frayed edges, its faded threads,  

For they are proof of what I’ve overcome.  

Proof that I’ve lived and loved,  

And been whole in my imperfection.

 

So, let me wear it proudly, 

This torn sarong,  

For every tear is a victory, 

And every patch, a story to be told.

 

I am whole not despite the tears,  

But because of them.  

And in the end,  

It’s the tears that make me beautiful.

Tuesday, December 10, 2024

Love After Love



Love After Love. 

The time will come 

When with elation

You will greet yourself arriving 

At your own door, in your own mirror,

And each will smile at the other's welcome,


And say, sit here, Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,


The photographs, the desperate notes,

Peel your image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life. 


 by Derek Walcott


Sunset by PineForest




















This poem by Derek Walcott opened up a deep realisation that I had since childhood. The search for self  has masqueraded as the search for god, the meaning of life, the holy grail, and the questions of; 
Where I come from, 
What I am doing here and 
Where am I going after life?
When the first and most pertinent question has always been; Who Am I?

The answer to the first question is like the key that will unlock all other questions.

Perhaps the essay that this inspired me to write in my next post might shed light onto my thoughts and feelings on  'The Idea of Love.' 








Sunday, June 09, 2024

The Journey.

Every once in a long while, a voice silently creeps up and whispers loud in my heart with the journey that brings great respite to my journey. Walk on. 



 One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voice behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life that you could save.

 

 Mary Oliver

The Journey

1986


(Edited 15/6/24)


What this poem means to me?


It’s a near perfect description of the journey

I have traveled over the last five years. 

From the start to the present. 

I was caught in a vortex of cosmic proportions

that wrenched my insides outside. 

I have never felt so lost in my life.

I have been lost before but each time only momentarily.

Only because I always had my family to go home to.

I have had an abundance of physical and emotional

comforts all my life.

But not this time. It’s been five years and counting.  


I now know the meaning of pain, encompassing regret, longing,

missing, yearning, wishing, desiring and dreaming.

And I also know how to put all of them behind me except dreaming.

That is what I hang on to dearly, long inspired by this short poem;


“ Hold fast to dreams,

For if dreams die,

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.”

~ Langston Hughes


My dreams have kept me sane as I descended the abyss.

I have blessed every pain and suffering I endured.

I am truly grateful to have walked this path. 

I realised that the person I need to love and forgive is myself.

Only then can I love and forgive others. Unconditionally. 


I am finally free. 

I do not ask for or expect love in return. 

I am in no need for external love or validation. 

I am whole. I have loved. I am loved. I am in love.

I am love. 


Like they say in Motown;

“...baby I can give you all the loving you need.”


May Your Journey Be Fulfilling. 

Saturday, June 17, 2023

I love you. Rabindranath Tagore

The Bard of Bengal 


The first Asian and non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913, Rabindranath Tagore wrote poetry, lyrics, dance dramas, songs and stories since he was 8. By age 16, his first substantial work - The Songs of Bhanushingo Thakur was described as 'long lost classics' by literary authorities. 

In 1910 he wrote Gitanjali - Song Offerings in Bengali. 
The translated version was admired by WB Yeats and Ezra Pound. The former wrote a lengthy intro for his book. His fame grew as his works spread to the western world and he was awarded a knighthood by King George V in the 1915 Birthday Honours but Tagore renounced it after the Jallianwala Bagh Amritsar massacre in 1919.

Tagore with Gandhi
















Featured here is a poem from the Gitanjali;



Unending Love


 “I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times.

In life after life, in age after age, forever.

My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,

That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,

In life after life, after age, forever.


Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain,

It's ancient tale of being apart or together.

As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,

Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.

You become an image of what is remembered forever.”


~ Ravindranath Tagore. 

Thursday, May 25, 2023

I love you. ee cummings

 Depth & Death in One Sentence. A Poem.


l

(al

ea

fa

ll

s)

on

el

in

es

s.


l(a leaf falls)oneliness. 


The layout of ee cumming's shortest poem is presented as such. Vertically descending. 

Though the shortest poem, it probably evokes the most amount of discourse, discussions, dissections and definitions. 

Obsessed with using letters in lower case, including his name, ee cummings laid use of letters (and parenthesis's) putting them to great utility in the arrangement for optimum effect in serving the idea and the message/s intended.

What is the meaning of this one-sentenced poem? Best described as, a falling leaf interrupting the word loneliness after the first letter lowercase 'l'. To read l()oneliness

For me, it's a diss on the word 'loneliness' metamorphosing the word to 'oneliness' when we realise that a person's life, best represented by a single leaf that one day must fall to the ground. So to feel lonely is to miss the point that it is in our 'oneliness' or oneness with the all that completes the whole. 

We are never alone in this cosmos, we are always in oneness with it. 

And once we come to this realisation, we no longer wallow in loneliness but unite in 'Oneliness' with the cosmos.  

Loneliness comes when all our days are spent in self-centredness. 

The very activity of self-centredness produces loneliness.

It is narrowing the whole vast extraordinariness of life into one small 'me'.


Amen. 






Monday, August 09, 2021

I love you. Departures.

 Flight.




















There are those whose wings
Learn to catch the winds
Before the rest of us.

Their world opens, vast
They soar, so fast.
(Too fast?)

And are gone, free forever.
We say "See you there"
(with a hint of despair)

For alone, we know not how.

We yearn to take flight
But we know, to earn the right
Would be to leap without fear.

Now is not our time.

For that glory so sublime
A thousand miles 
and years remain.

Let us think of the skies
And with hope in our eyes
Slowly, surely, learn to fly.


    Fifteen years have flown by, since your departure from this world. Still not a day goes by   that you are not with us. What joy you bring in your presence and in your absence.                   

             For it is in knowing and having you in our lives that make this life a lot more worthwhile and more worth living. So; Here's to living and dying and dying and living. 


            After all; Departures are Arrivals as Endings are Beginnings. See you there. Son.



 

 

 


Wednesday, August 04, 2021

I love you. Ode to a Cat

Lush Pussy. Wide Berth. Narrow Catwalk.
























In Memoriam- Dorsi














I have never shared space with a pussy as lush as you before. 
 
We met under strange circumstances. You were trapped in my apartment for days. 
You crept in and hid somewhere in my bedroom, unknowingly I locked up and left.
Your owners frantic. I had to cut short my stay at the farm to return to give you release.
 
Ever since, you roam as you please in the space between your apartment and mine. 
I see you and you see me and both giving each other a wide berth. 

Neither of us needed company. Neither needed to be stroked or touched. 

We respected each other's space, to be in silent solitude or to just chill, together or apart. 


It didn't matter if we didn't see each other for weeks or months, our space is still our                            sanctuary for sanity. The less we say to each other, the more we respect each other. 

        
Now that you're gone, I feel the emptiness, like the space we have shared all these years. 
        

An emptiness that is not quite empty. An emptiness that can only be felt when one is missing.

I shall miss you and our shared emptiness. 

I take comfort in knowing that you have finally found your lush wings, 

made your final narrow walk on our balcony sill and took flight. 


Goodbye my silent companion. Till we meet again, thanks for your company.




Sunday, June 27, 2021

I love you. Rumi

 Muhammad Jalaluddin Mawlana Rumi  (1207-1273)








Here is another superstar during his time. 

More writer, composer of songs, stories, than just a  poet, Rumi was celebrated as the equivalent of a blues icon. Like Miles Davis. 

Today he is the most celebrated poet of all time ranked the best selling poet in the US.

Rumi was born in Balkh, present day Afghanistan back then it was part of the great Persian empire. He wrote mostly in Persian but his work has influenced many other cultures in the Middle East. Born into a family of Islamic clerics, his father was a religious leader of traditional Islam faith. He lived as a sober scholar, nobleman, theologian and seeker of truth. 

However after a chance meeting with Shams of Tabriz, he became an impassioned seeker of universal truth and love, rising in popularity to become known as the greatest mystic poet. His work is deeply philosophical, from soulful expressions, to passionate love verses filled with desire and yearning. He also wrote anecdotes about life, moral stories, and stories from all three Abrahamic religions. 

He was a rebel, calling for breaking tradition and a soul yearning for freedom from dogma and hypocrisy. He also writes about going against the poison of fear based religions, extolling the remedy in love-based doctrine - a life journey free of guilt, fear and shame. Yet his work is not exclusive, he includes everyone. Therefore to classify or label him a Sufi is an understatement for he is more universal in his approach and is not bound by any cultural limitations. I would say he is a fully evolved human being that touches every one of us. 

Today Rumi's poems and writings are read in almost all houses of worship of all denominations.


Quotes


"Everything in the Universe is within You.

 

Ask All from Yourself"  ~ Rumi


~~ 




    "You Are Not A Drop in the Ocean,

 

You are The Entire Ocean in A Drop"  ~ Rumi


~~


"Run from What's Comfortable. Forget Safety.

 

Live Where You Fear To Live.

 

Destroy Your Reputation. Be Notorious.

 

I have tried Prudent Planning long enough.

 

From Now On I'll Be Mad." ~ Rumi


    ~~


 

Don't Grieve. Anything you Lose Comes Around in Another Form." ~ Rumi 



~~ 


"Do Not Feel Lonely, The Entire Universe is Inside You. ~ Rumi


~~


"Lovers don't finally meet somewhere.

 

they're in each other all along."  ~ Rumi


~~ 

Poetry 


I want to see you.

Know your voice. 

Recognise you when you first come round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,

the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way you purse your lips,

then let them part, just the slightest bit,

when I lean in to your space

and kiss you.

I want to know the joy 

of how you whisper

"more"

~ Rumi

 

~~


A Life without love is a waste.

"Should I look for Spiritual love, or material or physical love?" ,

Don't ask yourself this question.

Discrimination leads to discrimination.

Love doesn't need any category or definition.

Love is a World itself.

Either you are in at the center...

Either you are out, yearning.

~ Rumi



~~

And goodbye for now....







Friday, June 25, 2021

I love you. Tang Poets.

 Li Bai  (701-762 AD)





















Here is China's rock star artist in the form of a Poet. He was the greatest Chinese poet of all time.  
Famous for his creativity in crafting over 1000 poems of great beauty that became significant till this day. His poem were so famous that it caught the attention of the Tang Emperor Xuanzong, who became his great fan. Legend has it that the Emperor was so thrilled by his poetry that he once served Li Bai a bowl of soup over dinner. 
As a result of his genius, Li Bai's influence  grew in the corridors of power and before long he was a victim of court politics and was soon banished from the capital. Unperturbed he turned to his wandering ways and toured the countryside writing poetry and indulging in his favourite past time of drinking wine. Many of his poetry championed drunkenness and glorified it as a lifestyle. A nomadic wanderer, free-spirited romantic and rebel. He was also declared a banished immortal.
He was often drunk and believed to be most inspired when drunk with Chinese wine. In fact, legend had it that he died when trying to walk on water toasting the moon with a cup of wine.

During his time, he shared the honour of best poet with his contemporary Du Fu, and became life long friends. 



Here is his poem bidding farewell to his friend;


Sent to Du Fu below Shaqui City ~ Li Bai















What is it that I've come to now?

High before me: Shaqiu city.

Beside the city, ancient trees;

The sunset joins the autumn sounds.

The Lu wine cannot make me drunk,

Qi's songs cannot restore my feelings.

My thoughts of you are like the Wen's waters,

Mightily sent on their southern journey.




Here are 2 famous creations on longing;



Hearing a Flute on a Spring Nite in Luoyang city ~ Li Bai











From whose home secretly flies the sound of a jade flute?

It's lost amid the spring wind which fills Luoyang city.

In the middle of this nocturne I remember the snapped willow,

What person would not start to think of home!




Thoughts on A Still Night ~ Li Bai










Before my bed, the moon is shining bright,

I think that it is frost upon the ground.

I raise my head and look at the bright moon,

I lower my head and think of home.




Monday, June 21, 2021

I love you. Tang Dynasty - Golden Age of China

 Tang Dynasty - Art & Poetry.


During the Golden Age of China, poets and poetry was highly revered amongst royalty, court officials, concubines and commoners. Not only do they appreciate poetry, almost everyone became poets themselves, writing and reciting about life, unfolding in their time.  Records revealed that, thousands of poets had written thousands upon thousands of poetry. Thanks to the Tang court and others who came after, like the Song, Ming, and Ching Emperors, who made it mandatory to archiving volumes of Tang poetry.

 *According to the pre-eminent collection of Tang poetry entitled Complete Tang Poems( Quan Tangshi in Chinese), there were around 49,000 surviving poems divided into 900 volumes and written by a total of 2,200 authors.


They say; Art mirrors Life. And life during the Tang period in China was blossoming. 

Almost all aspects of life were going gloriously well. This was mostly due to the good governance of the Li Family who ruled during the Tang Dynasty (618-907 AD). Li Yuan, the founder was a garrison commander in Taiyuan when revolt against the Sui Dynasty broke out in 613. He marched to the Sui capital, forced the last Sui emperor to abdicate and founded the Tang Dynasty. From here onwards, it took five years of campaigning by the imperial princes Li Jiancheng and Li Shimin before the country was reunified.


Here are some notable achievements during the Tang Dynasty aka China's Golden Era;

• Commerce and Economy - Trade flourished within inter-cities as well as internationally. Merchants flocked to China via the Silk Road opening up trade routes and exchanges of knowledge and culture between East and West flourished. Chang'An, the capital was the largest city in the world rivalling Rome which was the Western equivalent at that time. China was the most powerful and the most prosperous nation on earth.

• Good Governance - Just like all dynasties, it was ruled by a powerful emperor who instituted, modified and carried out reforms within a legal system with laws that benefitted everyone. 

The government of the Tang Dynasty had three basic departments that came up with laws and policies. The framework of rules and laws were all administered by a group that was called the Six Ministries. These ministries were; 

1-military, 

2-personnel administration, 

3-finance, 

4-justice, 

5-rites 

6-the public works. 

This system worked very well and it actually outlived the Tang Dynasty, which collapsed in the year 907. The government system was actually modelled upon which every dynasty based its own systems. This was also widely used by other kingdoms and countries, including Korea and Vietnam.


Art and Culture - Creativity in the form of culture, art, painting and poetry were heavily promoted during this time. Notably Tang poetry which stood to define Chinese literary culture to this day. 

Some characteristics of Tang poetry.

Tang poetry was strongly connected to religion and had a major impact on the Song Dynasty poetry and even on world literature. The most popular Tang poetry styles included ”jintishi,” used by poets such as Cui Hao and Wang Wei and ”gushi,” used by Li Bai.

The former poetical style is characterized by seven Chinese characters per line, an antithesis between the second and the third couplets, and eight-line stanzas. Poetry contests were very popular and Tang poems were often recited in Classical Chinese, which was spoken during that era.


Here is one of the most famous, that almost all Chinese scholars would know:

Song of Unending Sorrow

China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
Till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown,
Bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her,
But with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed,
At last one day was chosen for the imperial household.
If she but turned her head and smiled, there were cast a hundred spells,
And the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing.
...It was early spring. They bathed her in the FlowerPure Pool,
Which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin,
And, because of her languor, a maid was lifting her
When first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride.
The cloud of her hair, petal of her cheek, gold ripples of her crown when she moved,
Were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus curtains;
But nights of spring were short and the sun arose too soon,
And the Emperor, from that time forth, forsook his early hearings
And lavished all his time on her with feasts and revelry,
His mistress of the spring, his despot of the night.
There were other ladies in his court, three thousand of rare beauty,
But his favours to three thousand were concentered in one body.
By the time she was dressed in her Golden Chamber, it would be almost evening;
And when tables were cleared in the Tower of Jade, she would loiter, slow with wine.
Her sisters and her brothers all were given titles;
And, because she so illumined and glorified her clan,
She brought to every father, every mother through the empire,
Happiness when a girl was born rather than a boy.
...High rose Li Palace, entering blue clouds,
And far and wide the breezes carried magical notes
Of soft song and slow dance, of string and bamboo music.
The Emperor's eyes could never gaze on her enough-
Till war-drums, booming from Yuyang, shocked the whole earth
And broke the tunes of The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
The Forbidden City, the nine-tiered palace, loomed in the dust
From thousands of horses and chariots headed southwest.
The imperial flag opened the way, now moving and now pausing- -
But thirty miles from the capital, beyond the western gate,
The men of the army stopped, not one of them would stir
Till under their horses' hoofs they might trample those moth- eyebrows....
Flowery hairpins fell to the ground, no one picked them up,
And a green and white jade hair-tassel and a yellowgold hair- bird.
The Emperor could not save her, he could only cover his face.
And later when he turned to look, the place of blood and tears
Was hidden in a yellow dust blown by a cold wind.
... At the cleft of the Dagger-Tower Trail they crisscrossed through a cloud-line
Under Omei Mountain. The last few came.
Flags and banners lost their colour in the fading sunlight....
But as waters of Shu are always green and its mountains always blue,
So changeless was His Majesty's love and deeper than the days.
He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace.
He heard bell-notes in the evening rain, cutting at his breast.
And when heaven and earth resumed their round and the dragon car faced home,
The Emperor clung to the spot and would not turn away
From the soil along the Mawei slope, under which was buried
That memory, that anguish. Where was her jade-white face?
Ruler and lords, when eyes would meet, wept upon their coats
As they rode, with loose rein, slowly eastward, back to the capital.
...The pools, the gardens, the palace, all were just as before,
The Lake Taiye hibiscus, the Weiyang Palace willows;
But a petal was like her face and a willow-leaf her eyebrow --
And what could he do but cry whenever he looked at them?
...Peach-trees and plum-trees blossomed, in the winds of spring;
Lakka-foliage fell to the ground, after autumn rains;
The Western and Southern Palaces were littered with late grasses,
And the steps were mounded with red leaves that no one swept away.



















Her Pear-Garden Players became white-haired
And the eunuchs thin-eyebrowed in her Court of PepperTrees;
Over the throne flew fire-flies, while he brooded in the twilight.
He would lengthen the lamp-wick to its end and still could never sleep.
Bell and drum would slowly toll the dragging nighthours
And the River of Stars grow sharp in the sky, just before dawn,
And the porcelain mandarin-ducks on the roof grow thick with morning frost
And his covers of kingfisher-blue feel lonelier and colder
With the distance between life and death year after year;
And yet no beloved spirit ever visited his dreams.
...At Lingqiong lived a Taoist priest who was a guest of heaven,
Able to summon spirits by his concentrated mind.
And people were so moved by the Emperor's constant brooding
That they besought the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.
He opened his way in space and clove the ether like lightning,
Up to heaven, under the earth, looking everywhere.
Above, he searched the Green Void, below, the Yellow Spring;
But he failed, in either place, to find the one he looked for.
And then he heard accounts of an enchanted isle at sea,
A part of the intangible and incorporeal world,
With pavilions and fine towers in the five-coloured air,
And of exquisite immortals moving to and fro,
And of one among them-whom they called The Ever True-
With a face of snow and flowers resembling hers he sought.
So he went to the West Hall's gate of gold and knocked at the jasper door
And asked a girl, called Morsel-of-Jade, to tell The Doubly- Perfect.
And the lady, at news of an envoy from the Emperor of China,
Was startled out of dreams in her nine-flowered, canopy.
She pushed aside her pillow, dressed, shook away sleep,
And opened the pearly shade and then the silver screen.
Her cloudy hair-dress hung on one side because of her great haste,
And her flower-cap was loose when she came along the terrace,
While a light wind filled her cloak and fluttered with her motion
As though she danced The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
And the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face
Were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear.
But love glowed deep within her eyes when she bade him thank her liege,
Whose form and voice had been strange to her ever since their parting --
Since happiness had ended at the Court of the Bright Sun,
And moons and dawns had become long in Fairy-Mountain Palace.
But when she turned her face and looked down toward the earth
And tried to see the capital, there were only fog and dust.
So she took out, with emotion, the pledges he had given
And, through his envoy, sent him back a shell box and gold hairpin,
But kept one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box,
Breaking the gold of the hairpin, breaking the shell of the box;
"Our souls belong together," she said, " like this gold and this shell --
Somewhere, sometime, on earth or in heaven, we shall surely
And she sent him, by his messenger, a sentence reminding him
Of vows which had been known only to their two hearts:
"On the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life,
We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world
That we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one,
And to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree."
Earth endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end,
While this unending sorrow goes on and on for ever.




There are reportedly as many as 100 versions of the poem. Many as there are, they tell a beautiful tale of unending love as much as unending sorrow. This story also inspired a classic work of Japanese literature- Tale of Genji, written in the early 11th Century by Murasaki Shikibu declared to be the world's first novel.


At the end of it, my take is that for any dynasty, nation or society to prosper and thrive, it must nurture and promote their art and culture. For without them, people are merely roaming the earth in pursuit of material well being. Material well being cannot be sustained with just hard power alone. Soft power is as important if not more powerful, as has been demonstrated by the soft, beautiful and irresistible Yang GuiFei.

Sunday, February 14, 2021

I love you. Yesterday, today and tomorrow.




I chanced upon a rare gem as I randomly browsed through 'The Essential Gibran' hardback. The only one remaining in my bookshelf of the two copies I purchased from The Strand book store in NYC.

This piece hit me hard in the silence of the night as I read it aloud. 

So hard that I refuse to let it lay idle, lost in the pages of the hardback tucked away in a bookshelf. 

I would prefer it laid out in a post exposed to my little world in my meditations. 

And if only one person were to read and enjoy the sublime beauty it represents, I would be truly happy.



 Yesterday, today and tomorrow. ~ Khalil Gibran


I said to my friend,

    'See her leaning over his arm?

    Yesterday she leaned over my arm'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lean over mine'.

And I said:

    'See her sitting at his side;

    And yesterday she sat at my side'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will sit at mine'.

And I said,

    'Don't you see her drinking from his cup?

    And yesterday she sipped from mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will drink from mine'.

And I said,

    'Look how she glances at him with eyes full of love!

    And with just such love, yesterday she glanced at me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will glance at me likewise'.

And I said,

    'Listen to her whispering songs of love in his ears.

    And yesterday she whispered the same songs in mine'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will whisper them in mine'.

And I said,

    'Look at her embracing him, and yesterday she embraced me'.

And he said:

    'Tomorrow she will lie in my arms'.

And I said, 

    'What a strange woman she is!!'

And he said:

    'She is Life'.