One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.” “Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry.” “There was nowhere to go but everywhere, so just keep on rolling under the stars.” “I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop."
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
The above kind of reminded me of the below Simon and Garfunkel song - about shifting responsibility for something or someone to anyone but one’s self. I always thought it was a very sad, beautiful and poignant song. Poor little sparrow.
[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oc5JLrpXpkE[/youtube]
Who will love a little Sparrow
Who’s travelled far and cries for rest?
“Not I”, said the Oak Tree
“I won’t share my branches with no Sparrow’s nest
And my blanket of leaves won’t warm her cold breast”
Who will love a little Sparrow?
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I, " said the Swan
“The entire idea is utterly absurd
I’d be laughed at and scorned if the other Swans heard”
And who will take pity in his heart?
And who will feed a starving Sparrow?
“Not I”, said the golden Wheat
“I would if I could, but I cannot, I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow”
Who will love a little Sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
“I will”, said the Earth
“For all I’ve created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be”
Sing me a song, you’re a singer
Do me a wrong, you’re a bringer of evil
The devil is never a maker
The less that you give, you’re a taker
So it’s on and on and on, it’s Heaven and Hell
Oh well
"Where would you rather be?
Anywhere but here
When will the time be right?
Anytime but now
On the edge of sleep,
I was drifting for half the night
Anxious and restless,
pressed down by the darkness
Bound up and wound up so tight
So many decisions, a million revisions
Caught between darkness and light…
Wilderness of mirrors
World of polished steel
Gears and iron chains
Turn the grinding wheel
I run between the shadows
Some are phantoms, some are real
Where would you rather be?
Anywhere but here
When will the time be right?
Anytime but now
The doubt and the fear
I know would all disappear
Anywhere but here
On the edge of sleep,
I heard voices behind the door
The known and the nameless,
familiar and faceless
My angels and my demons at war
Which one will lose — depends on what I choose
Or maybe which voice I ignore…
Wilderness of mirrors
Streets of cold desire
My precious sense of honor
Just a shield of rusty wire
I hold against the chaos —
And the cross of holy fire
Wilderness of mirrors
So easy to deceive
My precious sense of rightness
Is sometimes so naive
So that which I imagine
Is that which I believe
On the edge of sleep, I awoke to a sun so bright
Rested and fearless, cheered by your nearness
I knew which direction was right
The case had been tried by the jury inside
The choice between darkness and light."
Ask not who will love the little Sparrow. Ask whose love the sparrow lost and couldn’t bear to lose again.
Ask not who will love the little Sparrow. Ask who it loves and never stopped loving from a distance. Or closer than it ever thought possible.
Ask not who will love the little sparrow, or what it knows. Ask who it will love, and who knows it and it knows, even if only in part, and who has always known and loved it. Whose eye?
Weather one or other, the must be abstracted toward the realm where only intuition and the super supra natural can be conceived as having any effect on our normative daily life.
3 things:
Don’t get angry
Don’t compare
& Don’t worry
These 3 riles kept in mind are sufficient to withstand the beclouding effect of the lapses to fade of memory
Incidentally an aesthetic conversion to signal aposthesis commences I hope got that word roughly right, as when we were young and once Proven the quadratic equation the teach assured us we no longer have to prove it in every recurring situation.
The clouds its a Greek play i think will be back soon to confirm
Yes my recollection didn’t fail me this time around:
"In the play, Strepsiades, an elderly Athenian mired in debt, enrolls his son Pheidippides in Socrates’ philosophy school so that he might learn the rhetorical skills necessary to defeat their creditors in court, although all he really learns is cynical disrespect for social mores and contempt for authority, which leads …Jan 11, 2022 www.