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Fragments

Open horizons round,
O mounting mind, to scenes unsung,
Wherein shall walk a lusty Time:
Our Earth is young;
Of measure without bound;
Infinite are the heights to climb,
The depths to sound.

A wilding little stubble flower
The sickle scorned which cut for wheat,
Such was our hope in that dark hour
When nought save uses held the street,
And daily pleasures, daily needs,
With barren vision, looked ahead.
And still the same result of seeds
Gave likeness 'twixt the live and dead.

From labours through the night, outworn,
Above the hills the front of morn
We see, whose eyes to heights are raised,
And the world's wise may deem us crazed.
While yet her lord lies under seas,
She takes us as the wind the trees'
Delighted leafage; all in song
We mount to her, to her belong.

This love of nature, that allures to take
Irregularity for harmony
Of larger scope than our hard measures make,
Cherish it as thy school for when on thee
The ills of life descend.

poem by George Meredith
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Related quotes

The Three Kings [1]

The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb—
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
‘I’ve been to the West,’ the digger said: he was bearded, bronzed and old;
Ah, the smothering curse of the East is wool, and the curse of the West is gold.
I went to the West in the golden boom, with Hope and a life-long mate,
‘They sleep in the sand by the Boulder Soak, and long may the Three Kings wait.’

‘I’ve had my fling on the Sydney-side,’ said a blacksheep to the sea,
Let the young fool learn when he can’t be taught: I’ve learnt what’s good for me.’
And he gazed ahead on the sea-line dim—grown dim in his softened eyes—
With a pain in his heart that was good for him—as he saw the Three Kings rise.

A pale girl sits on the foc’sle head—she is back, Three Kings! so soon;
But it seems to her like a life-time dead since she fled with him ‘saloon.’
There is refuge still in the old folks’ arms for the child that loved too well;
They will hide her shame on the Southern farm—and the Three Kings will not tell.

’Twas a restless heart on the tide of life, and a false star in the skies
That led me on to the deadly strife where the Southern London lies;
But I dream in peace of a home for me, by a glorious southern sound,
As the sunset fades from a moonlit sea, and the Three Kings show us round.

Our hearts are young and the old hearts old, and life, on the farms is slow,
And away in the world there is fame and gold—and the Three Kings watch us go.
Our heads seem wise and the world seems wide, and its heights are ours to climb,
So it’s off and away in our youthful pride—but the Three Kings bide our time.

poem by Henry Lawson
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Beyond Vanity

Everything is truly done in vain, unless you live your life for God,
For there is nothing that will remain, on this present earth we trod.
All this world is temporal friend, no matter what path you choose,
And everything will have an end, and earthly gain we all shall lose.

All men are simply like the grass, here today, but soon will perish,
And when all comes to pass, is it Christ Jesus whom you cherish?
That’s one thing that will endure, with benefits well into eternal life,
Where you will live forevermore, while in Eternity with Jesus Christ.

When all on earth’s said and done, there lies ahead a great reward,
For all who come to God’s Son, and live to serve The Living Lord.
The life that Christ came to give, God offers to both, you and me,
And Jesus helps us to daily live, while He prepares us for Eternity.

With our focus now up above, filled with Heaven’s Joys and Bliss,
Moved anew through God’s Love, life now, is not so meaningless.
For Jesus came to give men life, taking us from the dark of night,
Freeing men of meaningless strife, while guiding them in His Light.

All vanities shall simply fade away, from your heart and your mind,
When Christ’s in our heart to stay, giving spiritual sight to the blind.
And now with new eyes you see, a world beyond this temporal sod,
Where we will live for Eternity, with Jesus Christ, our Lord and God.

(04/2007)

poem by Bob Gotti
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Aurobindo 71 Savitri Book 3

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book 3-The Book of the Divine Mother
Canto Four: The Vision and the Boon
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'O Bliss who ever dwellst deep-hid within
While men seek thee outside and never find,
Mystery and Muse with hieratic tongue,
Incarnate the white passion of thy force,
Mission to earth some living form of thee.'
'Immortal, treading the earth with mortal feet
All heaven's beauty crowd in earthly limbs!
Omnipotence, girdle with the power of God'...

'Movements and moments of a mortal will,
Pack with the eternal might one human hour
And with one gesture change all future time.
Let a great word be spoken from the heights
And one great act unlock the doors of Fate.'
What else could be better than this o'Guru
Quintessential..delighted heart overwhelmed..
Deservedly be it to the right one to the Supreme

'..there arose a wide consenting Voice; '
'O strong forerunner, I have heard thy cry.
One shall descend and break the iron Law,
Change Nature's doom by the lone spirit's power.
A limitless Mind that can contain the world,
A sweet and violent heart of ardent calms
Moved by the passions of the gods shall come.
All mights and greatnesses shall join in her; '

'Nature shall overleap her mortal step;
Fate shall be changed by an unchanging will.'
'The Lord of Life resumed his mighty rounds
In the scant field of the ambiguous globe.'
Up the hope-stairs I pause now on 'right or wrong'
For wrong is sin shameful, save and salve o'Guru...

............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune

End of Book Three, Canto Four
End of Part One

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Heights

We fly to heights;
then sink to depths.
Like birds that fly in the sky;
but pick their feeds from earth.
Like plains that travel in the air;
but gather passengers from the ground.
Like great mountains, towering in glory,
but are founded on their bases.

Great men are small!
They bow to wash others feet,
they get their hands dirty,
to clean up the mess.
The greatest things on earth are small
But there are no mountains without bases
And no wave fails to see the shores
No bird feeds in the air
Heights are sweet but we soon come back home
The greatest imperfection lies in heights
The only temptations come from pride
There’s no warmth in heights
We strive for heights but fall to depths
Heights are never real.

poem by Timothy muggaga
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Just A Closer Walk With Thee

I am weak but Thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I'll be satisfied as long as I walk
Dear Lord, close to Thee.
Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it Jesus, is my plea
Daily walkin' close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.
Through this world of toils and snares
If I falter Lord, who cares?
Who with me my burden shares?
None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.
Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it Jesus, is my plea
Daily walkin' close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.
When my feeble life is o'er
And time for me will be no more
Guide me gently, safely o'er
To Thy kingdom dear Lord, to Thy shore.
Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it Jesus, is my plea
Daily walkin' close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.
--- Instrumental to fade ---

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aurobindo-26-Savitri-Book -2

An appreciation on Savitri
Book II The Book of the Traveller of the Worlds
Canto IV The Kingdoms of the Little Life
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'The spirit in a finite ignorant world'..
'Then slowly it gathers mass, looks up at Light.'
'This Nature lives tied to her origin,
A clutch of nether force is on her still; '
Out of unconscious depths her instincts leap;
A neighbour is her life to insentient Nought.
Under this law an ignorant world was made.'
Nature is natural in its destiny of ignorance too

'In a mysterious dispensation's law
A Wisdom that prepares its far-off ends
Planned so to start her slow aeonic game.'
'Then came a fierier breath of waking Life,
And there arose from the dim gulf of things
The strange creations of a thinking sense,
Existences half-real and half-dream.'
'A life was there that hoped not to survive: '

In a dwarf model of humanity
Nature now launched the extreme experience
And master-point of her design's caprice,
Luminous result of her half-conscious climb
On rungs twixt her sublimities and grotesques
To massive from infinitesimal shapes,
To a subtle balancing of body and soul,
To an order of intelligent littleness.'

'There was no brooding stress of deeper sense,
The burden of reflection was not borne:
Mind looked on Nature with unknowing eyes,
Adored her boons and feared her monstrous strokes.'
Towards a dead-end marching still the 'Little Life'
And that 'nescient haze' alone is well known.....

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Fall of the Night

Fall of the Night
By: Adam M. Snow

Fare thee well, my heart's contempt,
I gave thee my dying breath.
I've soared the world from dark to day,
Longing for that which darkness grieves.
I travel o'er the ageless night,
Bound by that of solstice light.
My voice cannot break through
A silence that now binds me.
I see a vision of only thee,
a vision not I but thee.
Ev'ry night, It be thee not I,
A reflection shown to cast aside.
A mirror vision of I,
A mirror image of infanticide.
Forget me not I say,
I give thee my final hour,
Fare thee well, my dearest flower.

poem by Adam M. Snow
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The Death Of Richard Wagner

Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend,
Wide-winged with plagues, from heaven; when hope and mirth
Wane, and no lips rebuke or reprehend
Mourning on earth.

The soul wherein her songs of death and birth,
Darkness and light, were wont to sound and blend,
Now silent, leaves the whole world less in worth.

Winds that make moan and triumph, skies that bend,
Thunders, and sound of tides in gulf and firth,
Spake through his spirit of speech, whose death should send
Mourning on earth.

The world's great heart, whence all things strange and rare
Take form and sound, that each inseparate part
May bear its burden in all tuned thoughts that share
The world's great heart -

The fountain forces, whence like steeds that start
Leap forth the powers of earth and fire and air,
Seas that revolve and rivers that depart -

Spake, and were turned to song: yea, all they were,
With all their works, found in his mastering art
Speech as of powers whose uttered word laid bare
The world's great heart.

From the depths of the sea, from the wellsprings of earth, from the wastes of the midmost night,
From the fountains of darkness and tempest and thunder, from heights where the soul would be,
The spell of the mage of music evoked their sense, as an unknown light
From the depths of the sea.

As a vision of heaven from the hollows of ocean, that none but a god might see,
Rose out of the silence of things unknown of a presence, a form, a might,
And we heard as a prophet that hears God's message against him, and may not flee.

Eye might not endure it, but ear and heart with a rapture of dark delight,
With a terror and wonder whose core was joy, and a passion of thought set free,
Felt inly the rising of doom divine as a sundawn risen to sight
From the depths of the sea.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Thee, Thee, Only Thee

The dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
Of thee, thee, only thee.
When friends are met, and goblets crown'd,
And smiles are near, that once enchanted,
Unreach'd by all that sunshine round,
My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
By thee, thee, only thee.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken
My spirit once, is now forsaken
For thee, thee, only thee.
Like shores, by which some headlong bark
To the ocean hurries, resting never,
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
I know not, heed not, hastening ever
To thee, thee, only thee.

I have not a joy but of thy bringing,
And pain itself seems sweet when springing
From thee, thee, only thee.
Like spells, that nought on earth can break,
Till lips, that know the charm, have spoken,
This heart, howe'er the world may wake
Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken
By thee, thee, only thee.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Untitled 5485

bright light on the darkest night stars light your vision pure morning lights of heaven an angel descent skyward down and skyward up past up and below farther deeper inthe deepest depths of hell lonliness in your mind your heart beats ever more hard an fast a roller coast down and up and down again like waves crashing against a solid rock a southern wind blows sands of time scatter across an empty void big hills come into vision fields of dead grass rotten flowers festering away ashes to dust dust to nothingness stray from your body out of your mind gone from all the planes of existence to a reality so unlike anyother that you would never know darkness fills everything you open your eyes you open your mind dont open your heart you stay strong and true beleiving in what you will always know a forever darkness an empty stomach but a mind full of thought ideas dreams an goals go for gold no no not yet start with bronze build up slow crawl before u climb walk before you run never advance to fast stay simple and let life and your visions come into focus never let them turn to delusions of nothing let your heart beats true open your eyes to a whole wife world see your opportunity come into focus know that when push comes into shove you are ready for whatever darkness in life throws your way and maybe just maybe crossin that dark path across the empty void sumwhere over the great hills light shines on you and your objective is ready there just for you to grasp and in your emptiness gets fulfilled with thoughts of happiness and you start to live your dream

poem by Dorian Suchelle
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All My Needs

My Lord, I simply want from you, the needs I have to see me through,
All those needs each and every day, which I encounter along the way;
Wants and needs, I daily confront, please help me to curb each want,
As your plan for me, that’s much higher, will see my every true desire.

I entreat You Lord, to refuse me not, as I live out my life’s chosen lot,
This present lot that was cast for me, by The Lord over all of Eternity;
Guide me until the day that I die, through your guidance from on high,
Knowing all in life, that is ahead, guard my heart from fear and dread.

Keep falsehood and lies from me, whatever the future ahead may be,
Through hard times or prosperity, please set my sights upon Eternity,
While I live every day for Christ, Who has secured for me Eternal Life,
During those times of tribulation, I shall trust in The Lord of Salvation.

Lord, allow me not riches or poverty, in the plan that you have for me,
But Lord, I simply request instead, your guidance and my daily bread;
If given too much, I may disown, my Lord, who’s on Heaven’s Throne,
With all that provision, by me, ignored, I might say “Who is The Lord”.

Lord, if I were poor, I just may deal, with the dark and moved to steal,
This would only dishonor the Name, of God, Who provides all I claim;
So help me to always be content, with the provisions, You have sent,
And so Your Word, I’d always heed, while You provide all that I need.

poem by Bob Gotti
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The Divine Lover

Me Lord? can’st thou mispend
One word, misplace one look on me?
Call’st me thy Love, thy Friend?
Can this poor soul the object be
Of these love-glances, those life-kindling eyes?
What? I the Centre of thy arms embraces?
Of all thy labour I the prize?
Love never mocks, Truth never lies.
Oh how I quake: Hope fear, fear hope displaces:
I would, but cannot hope: such wondrous love amazes.

II

See, I am black as night,
See I am darkness: dark as hell.
Lord thou more fair than light;
Heav’ns Sun thy Shadow; can Sunns dwell
With Shades? ’twixt light, and darkness what commerce?
True: thou art darkness, I thy Light: my ray
Thy mists, and hellish foggs shall pierce.
With me, black soul, with me converse.
I make the foul December flowry May,
Turn thou thy night to me: I’le turn thy night to day.

III

See Lord, see I am dead:
Tomb’d in my self: my self my grave
A drudge: so born, so bred:
My self even to my self a slave.
Thou Freedom, Life: can Life, and Liberty
Love bondage, death? Thy Freedom I: I tyed
To loose thy bonds: be bound to me:
My Yoke shall ease, my bonds shall free.
Dead soul, thy Spring of life, my dying side:
There dye with me to live: to live in thee I dyed.

poem by Phineas Fletcher
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We need to walk the way of God

We need to walk the way of God, that is how I was taught,

Trusting Him every day, I see where the path, God has brought;

Sometimes up, sometimes so low, ahead of me, God does know,

So I will trust His guidance in my. Daily walk with Him you see!

Thank you Lord, Just keep on please, to guide me.

We need to go the way of prayer, thinking of others, who can't see,

That God's way is the right way to go, please help me, them to show;

They walk in darkness, not able to see the light ahead, it's true,

Just give me a vision of these folk Lord, just put them into view;

And open their hearts and minds, as I pray for them too.

poem by Margaret Haig
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Life

Oh Life! I breathe thee in the breeze,
I feel thee bounding in my veins,
I see thee in these stretching trees,
These flowers, this still rock's mossy stains.

This stream of odours flowing by
From clover-field and clumps of pine,
This music, thrilling all the sky,
From all the morning birds, are thine.

Thou fill'st with joy this little one,
That leaps and shouts beside me here,
Where Isar's clay-white rivulets run
Through the dark woods like frighted deer.

Ah! must thy mighty breath, that wakes
Insect and bird, and flower and tree,
From the low trodden dust, and makes
Their daily gladness, pass from me--

Pass, pulse by pulse, till o'er the ground
These limbs, now strong, shall creep with pain,
And this fair world of sight and sound
Seem fading into night again?

The things, oh LIFE! thou quickenest, all
Strive upwards toward the broad bright sky,
Upward and outward, and they fall
Back to earth's bosom when they die.

All that have borne the touch of death,
All that shall live, lie mingled there,
Beneath that veil of bloom and breath,
That living zone 'twixt earth and air.

There lies my chamber dark and still,
The atoms trampled by my feet,
There wait, to take the place I fill
In the sweet air and sunshine sweet.

Well, I have had my turn, have been
Raised from the darkness of the clod,
And for a glorious moment seen
The brightness of the skirts of God;

And knew the light within my breast,
Though wavering oftentimes and dim,
The power, the will, that never rest,
And cannot die, were all from him.

Dear child! I know that thou wilt grieve
To see me taken from thy love,
Wilt seek my grave at Sabbath eve,
And weep, and scatter flowers above.

Thy little heart will soon be healed,
And being shall be bliss, till thou
To younger forms of life must yield
The place thou fill'st with beauty now.

When we descend to dust again,
Where will the final dwelling be
Of Thought and all its memories then,
My love for thee, and thine for me?

poem by William Cullen Bryant
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To Nimue

I had clean forgotten all, her face who had caused my trouble.
Gone was she as a cloud, as a bird which passed in the wind, as a glittering stream--borne bubble,
As a shadow set by a ship on the sea, where the sail looks down on its double.

I had laid her face to the wall, on the shelf where my fancies sleep.
I had laid my pain in its grave, in its rose--leaf passionless grave, with the things I had dared not keep.
I had left it there. I had dried my tears. I had said, ``Ah, why should I weep?''

I will not be fooled by her, by the spell of her fair child's face.
What is its meaning to me, who have seen, who have known, who have loved what miracle forms of grace?
What are its innocent wiles, its smiles, its idle sweet girlishness?

I will not love without love. I despise the ways of a fool.
Let me prevail as of old, as lover, as lord, as king, or have done with Love's tyrant rule.
I was born to command, not serve, not obey. No boy am I in Love's school.

I have fled to the fields, the plains, the desert places of rest,
To the forest's infinite smile, where the cushat calls from the trees and the yaffle has lined her nest,
To the purple hills with the spray of the sea, when the wind blows loud from the west.

I have done with her love and her, the wine--draughts of human pleasure.
The voice of nature is best, the cradle song of the trees which is hymned to Time's stateliest measure,
As once a boy in the woods I heard it and held it an exquisite treasure.

I had clean forgotten all. I had sung to the indolent hills
Songs of joy without grief, since grief is of human things the shadow of human ills.
I sang aloud in my pride of song to the chime of the answering rills.

And, behold, the whole world heard, the dull mad manridden Earth.
And they cried, ``A prophet hath risen, a sage with the heart of a child, a bard of no human birth,
A soul that hath known nor pain, nor sin, a singer of infinite mirth.''

And she too heard it and came. And she knew it was I grown wise.
And she stood from the rest apart, and I watched her with pitying scorn, and then with a sad surprise,
And last with a new sweet passionate joy, for I saw there were tears in her eyes.

And she came and sat at my feet, as in days ere our grief began.
And I saw her a woman grown. And I was a prophet no more, but a desolate voiceless man.
And I clasped her fast in my arms in joy and kissed her tears as they ran.

And I shall not be fooled by her, though her face is fair as a rose.
And I shall not live without love, though the world should forget my songs and I should forget its woes,
And the purple hills should forget the sea and the spray when the west wind blows.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Distant Voice

Today I will shed my body
and meet you halfway at watery address.
My eyes were not blinking to hold the clouds.

To live or not to live was a great pain.
Two small hands and two bubbling eyes
glued to a broken wall was my hope.
And glitter of the road,
fallen trees,
dead panther,
had sacrificed my sun.

I think I live to die daily,
and die daily to live again
over the enormous property of shame.

Melting in my own blood
I was becoming dark.
The night was dancing on my sadness.
Now it was me, shaking in remoteness
of a distant voice!

poem by Satish Verma
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My Daily Walk With GOD

i did my walk today
a mile and a half each way
it may not be much to the younger generation
but! it fills me with exhilaration.

the walk opens my mind so it can see
all the beauties that GOD gave to me.

and as i do my daily walk
people will stop to talk
we'll talk about the beauty of the day
and it seems that time slips away.

when i get back to the house
i have a confrontation with my spouse.
'what took you so long, and where did you go
or is it that you're walking slow'

the arguing is not a beauty to me
it is just a mystery.
why is health so hard to understand
it is giving us a helping hand.
to live and see what the LORD has provided
this is HIS word, you can not hide it.

do for yourself and I will help you
'this is so very true'
put your faith in the LORD above
for HE has given us perfect love.

i am filled with sensation
of GODS beauties and creations
so i do my daily walk
and with HIM i will talk.

poem by Louis Rams
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Innocence Vavroovahana Patra

Innocence of the Virgin allures daily;
The lover derives peace gaily.
Silvery Beauty allures in morn;
Beauteous becomes the dawn.

The rosy virgin is a Deity;
Inspires with gaiety.
Mind surrenders on Beauty;
Poet derives gaiety.

Beauty is God’s creation;
Frees lover’s tension.
Heavenly Beauty is a Divine gift;
Appears to pervade delight.

She magnifies the beauty of Nature;
Beholding, all derive pleasure.
Tranquilises lover’s mind daily;
Lover likes peacefully.

The cosy rosy flower smiles in the garden of society gaily;
Plays delightfully.
The tiny lovely flower provides peace;
Beholding, lover’s mind enchant with pleasure.

poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The Resurrection And The Life

I Am, saith Christ our glorious head,
(May we attention give)
The resurrection of the dead,
The life of all that live.

By faith in me, the soul receives
New life, though dead before;
And he that in my name believes,
Shall live, to die no more.

The sinner, sleeping in his grave,
Shall at my voice awake;
And when I once begin to save,
My work I ne'er forsake.

Fulfill thy promise, gracious Lord,
On us assembled here,
Put forth thy Spirit with the word,
And cause the dead to hear.

Preserve the pow'r of faith alive,
In those who love thy name;
For sin and Satan daily strive
To quench the sacred flame.

Thy pow'r and mercy first prevailed
From death to set us free;
And often since our life had failed,
If not renewed by thee.

To thee we look, to thee we bow;
To thee, for help, we call;
Our life and resurrection thou,
Our hope, our joy, our all.

poem by John Newton
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I Belong To You

You are the flame in my heart
You light my way in the dark
You are the ultimate star

You lift me from up above
Your unconditional love
Takes me to paradise

I belong to you
And you
You belong to me too

You make my life complete
You make me feel so sweet

You make me feel so divine
Your soul and mind are entwined
Before you I was blind

But since I've opened my eyes
And with you there's no disguise
So I could open up my mind

I always loved you from the start
But I could not figure out
That I had to do it everyday

So I put away the fight
Now I'm gonna live my life
Giving you the most in every way