The Unknown God
The President to Kingdoms,
As in the Days of Old;
The King to the Republic,
As it had been foretold.
They could not read the spelling,
They would not hear the call;
They would not brook the telling
Of Writing on the Wall.
I buy my Peace with Slaughter,
With Peace I fashion War;
I drown the land with water,
With land I build the shore.
I walk with Son and Daughter
Where Ocean rolled before.
I build a town where sea was
A tower where tempests roar.
From bays in distant islands,
And rocks in lonely seas,
With unseen Death in silence
I smite mine enemies!
The great Cathedral crashes
Where once a city stood;
I build again on ashes
And breed on clotted blood!
I link the seas together,
And at my sign and will
The train runs on the ocean bed,
The great ship climbs the hill!
For pastime I flood deserts
With water from the rill;
And in my tireless leisure hours
I empty lakes, and fill.
I plumb the seas beneath us
And fathom skies above,
Yet I make Peace for hatred
And I make War for love.
I race beneath the ranges
And sit where Mystery dwells—
Yet mankind sees no changes,
They ask for “miracles!”
I own the world and span its
Lone lands from Pole to Pole;
I live in other planets,
Yet do not know my soul—
The soul that none may fathom,
Whose secrets none may tell,
The soul that none may humble,
The Soul Unconquerable!
I am the God of Ages!
I am the Unknown God!
My life is written pages
Wherever man hath trod.
From bounds of Polar regions,
To where the Desert reigns,
I’ve left my myriad legions
On countless vanished plains.
And I shall reign for ever
On earth while oceans roll,
In shape of man, or woman,
Through my immortal soul;
Yet I can love and suffer,
Be angry, or be mild,
And I can bow me down and weep
Just like a mortal child.
I conquer Death and Living,
And Fiends in shape of men,
For I rejoice in giving
Not to receive again.
For I am Man!—and Mortal!
And Mammon’s Towers must fall,
Though Greed draws all his pencils through
The Writing on the Wall!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Related quotes
Unbroken sunshine leads to deserts
Unbroken sunshine leads to deserts
And endless dunes across the soul
Yet the storms that blow from God above
Help make us whole, and that with love
For man will always take the path
Of least resistance to his flesh
He runs to pride and from the meek
To God confess, the humble seek
To walk with God is to walk through fire
And beds of coal beneath our feet
Through every mountain pass and valleys
And desert heat and darkened alleys
Unless the seed falls to the ground
And rain and storms have tilled the land
Then nothing grows and all is dead
No wheat shall stand, no one is fed
So embrace the storms and raging seas
And hail and snow and fallen trees
And fire and flood and rising tide
Will set you free, no more to hide
For if God is for me, I'll walk in peace
And His grace on me shall never cease
To mold and shape and create in me
The landscape that you now can see
poem by Frank McEleny
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The Ship of Death
I
Now it is autumn and the falling fruit
and the long journey towards oblivion.
The apples falling like great drops of dew
to bruise themselves an exit from themselves.
And it is time to go, to bid farewell
to one's own self, and find an exit
from the fallen self.
II
Have you built your ship of death, O have you?
O build your ship of death, for you will need it.
The grim frost is at hand, when the apples will fall
thick, almost thundrous, on the hardened earth.
And death is on the air like a smell of ashes!
Ah! can't you smell it?
And in the bruised body, the frightened soul
finds itself shrinking, wincing from the cold
that blows upon it through the orifices.
III
And can a man his own quietus make
with a bare bodkin?
With daggers, bodkins, bullets, man can make
a bruise or break of exit for his life;
but is that a quietus, O tell me, is it quietus?
Surely not so! for how could murder, even self-murder
ever a quietus make?
IV
O let us talk of quiet that we know,
that we can know, the deep and lovely quiet
of a strong heart at peace!
How can we this, our own quietus, make?
V
Build then the ship of death, for you must take
the longest journey, to oblivion.
And die the death, the long and painful death
that lies between the old self and the new.
Already our bodies are fallen, bruised, badly bruised,
already our souls are oozing through the exit
of the cruel bruise.
Already the dark and endless ocean of the end
is washing in through the breaches of our wounds,
Already the flood is upon us.
Oh build your ship of death, your little ark
and furnish it with food, with little cakes, and wine
for the dark flight down oblivion.
VI
Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul
has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.
We are dying, we are dying, we are all of us dying
and nothing will stay the death-flood rising within us
and soon it will rise on the world, on the outside world.
We are dying, we are dying, piecemeal our bodies are dying
and our strength leaves us,
and our soul cowers naked in the dark rain over the flood,
cowering in the last branches of the tree of our life.
VII
We are dying, we are dying, so all we can do
is now to be willing to die, and to build the ship
of death to carry the soul on the longest journey.
A little ship, with oars and food
and little dishes, and all accoutrements
fitting and ready for the departing soul.
Now launch the small ship, now as the body dies
and life departs, launch out, the fragile soul
in the fragile ship of courage, the ark of faith
with its store of food and little cooking pans
and change of clothes,
upon the flood's black waste
upon the waters of the end
upon the sea of death, where still we sail
darkly, for we cannot steer, and have no port.
There is no port, there is nowhere to go
only the deepening blackness darkening still
blacker upon the soundless, ungurgling flood
darkness at one with darkness, up and down
and sideways utterly dark, so there is no direction any more
and the little ship is there; yet she is gone.
She is not seen, for there is nothing to see her by.
She is gone! gone! and yet
somewhere she is there.
Nowhere!
VIII
And everything is gone, the body is gone
completely under, gone, entirely gone.
The upper darkness is heavy as the lower,
between them the little ship
is gone
It is the end, it is oblivion.
IX
And yet out of eternity a thread
separates itself on the blackness,
a horizontal thread
that fumes a little with pallor upon the dark.
Is it illusion? or does the pallor fume
A little higher?
Ah wait, wait, for there's the dawn
the cruel dawn of coming back to life
out of oblivion
Wait, wait, the little ship
drifting, beneath the deathly ashy grey
of a flood-dawn.
Wait, wait! even so, a flush of yellow
and strangely, O chilled wan soul, a flush of rose.
A flush of rose, and the whole thing starts again.
X
The flood subsides, and the body, like a worn sea-shell
emerges strange and lovely.
And the little ship wings home, faltering and lapsing
on the pink flood,
and the frail soul steps out, into the house again
filling the heart with peace.
Swings the heart renewed with peace
even of oblivion.
Oh build your ship of death. Oh build it!
for you will need it.
For the voyage of oblivion awaits you.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Personality
"Death is to us change, not consummation."
Heart of Midlothian.
A change! no, surely, not a change,
The change must be before we die;
Death may confer a wider range,
From pole to pole, from sea to sky,
It cannot make me new or strange
To mine own Personality!
For what am I? -- this mortal flesh,
These shrinking nerves, this feeble frame,
For ever racked with ailments fresh
And scarce from day to day the same --
A fly within the spider's mesh,
A moth that plays around the flame!
THIS is not I -- within such coil
The immortal spirit rests awhile:
When this shall lie beneath the soil,
Which its mere mortal parts defile,
THAT shall for ever live and foil
Mortality, and pain, and guile.
Whatever Time may make of me
Eternity must see me still
Clear from the dross of earth, and free
From every stain of every ill;
Yet still, where-e'er -- what-e'er I be,
Time's work Eternity must fill.
When all the worlds have ceased to roll,
When the long light has ceased to quiver
When we have reached our final goal
And stand beside the Living River,
This vital spark -- this loving soul,
Must last for ever and for ever.
To choose what I must be is mine,
Mine in these few and fleeting days,
I may be if I will, divine,
Standing before God's throne in praise, --
Through all Eternity to shine
In yonder Heaven's sapphire blaze.
Father, the soul that counts it gain
To love Thee and Thy law on earth,
Unchanged but free from mortal stain,
Increased in knowledge and in worth,
And purified from this world's pain,
Shall find through Thee a second birth.
A change! no surely not a change!
The change must be before we die;
Death may confer a wider range
From world to world, from sky to sky,
It cannot make me new or strange
To mine own Personality!
poem by James Lionel Michael
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The Mistic Ocean
It's a beautiful the mistic ocean.
I‘m intoxicating because a unknown mystery.
The Ocean feel as my inside world and
the surf break as drops of water.
The soul was very lonely so came to see a the Ocean's kept a dreamed and
It wanted to be similiar to the Ocean.
The wide the Ocean is the native place of everything life very long time ago.
At the Ocean my mind is easy fall in love if exist person that well suit to me.
I felt the cold weather of life so I came to the Ocean.
Here I seek for that The dream of my soul.
Sometimes the Ocean was melancholy and furious.
It shows to we irdirectly that the various foms of the life
I want eagerly that
always as friend I'll do with Ocean and
permenently I'll live to keep the dream of Ocean.
Real Peace
Groups of men try to broker peace, in that land of troubled seas,
Seas of people from every side; men that have no peace inside.
Religious men upon their knees, are not moved by human pleas,
Men’s pleas to stop the violence, wrapped in a false benevolence.
As terror reigns in their hearts, men end each day the way it starts.
Men’s terror reigns on every side, while the Truth of God is denied,
Much of men’s religious ignorance, continues fueling the violence,
People that have no respect for life, fill the land with war and strife.
Real peace will never play a part, with violence deep in their heart,
What these men do not understand, is who exactly owns the land.
They want the people of Abraham, to be removed from God’s land.
The men who possess the land, don’t even know The Son of Man,
Who came to show the Love of God, on the very ground they trod.
God had sent all men His Salvation, through the tiny Jewish nation.
That my friend was Jesus Christ, who offered up to all men His life.
Christ is coming back, Lord of all, and to redeem His nation Israel.
A peace is coming from The Lord, and by none shall it be ignored,
As Christ reigns as Prince of Peace, in a reign that shall not cease.
When He reigns in Jerusalem, He gives peace to all, not just some.
And His peace shall forever endure, for His peace is from The Lord.
07/2006
Ocean Land
Before eyes that are blind no more
A sight unseen that tears the soul
All we ever loved and known
Into mass graves is what we're shown"
"We see an ocean once was land"
& So they come to understand
This place where man used to be born
Will be man's water throne
"All that was magical, beautiful,
will be gone"
These measures call for divine intervention
"All the achievements of man,
one will stand all alone"
One that survives the final selection
"The sand in the hour glass,
moves so fast, slow the sand
And nothing that mankind has strived for
will be left in ocean land"
The rain will fall then
Filling the dried land
"Here are we, servants three
flesh and blood
Poor and weak,
hear thou speak of the flood"
It must be a sign
A message from God's hand
song performed by by Orphaned Land
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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H2o
Bubbling up
from within
life giving,
quench my thirst.
Gathering in the grotto
spilling over its rim.
Trickle down,
a new begins.
Babbling brook.
Gentle stream.
Rapidly flowing river.
Ragging currents.
Frothy unsettled turbulence.
Under toe from beneath,
take
me
away.
Falling over rocks below.
Finding its way to open waters.
Great lakes
perhaps
beaver ponds.
Tributaries,
watersheds,
over abundance,
flood planes lie ahead.
Sediment washes away
to oceans
vast seas.
Sail upon them to distant shores,
explore the unknown.
Ebbing tide
called forth
mesmerizing moon.
Fathom deep
depths unknown.
Waves crashing ashore,
secluded bay
private lagoon.
Listen,
sirens song
calling.
Lift the Cong shell to your ear,
tell me
what
you
hear.
poem by Gary Kedron
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Beyond The Oceans Set To Sail...
Beyond the oceans...
Set to sail...!
My soul is lost to an unknown land...!
It screams...
It weeps...
My sleepless nights to help...
My anchor hooked to shores...
Left calm oceans behind...
What if stillness too awaits...ever after
My soul for sake...soulless in loneliness and darkness...
What if I hit to seas...
And it's clamoring rage... To find my soul, my friend no more...
My fears and anxiety ever grow...
Oceans apart...
He calls his love his life...
I by a haunted vision held back to earth's promises...
Life's ties...!
Holy rituals...!
Conventions...!
Night's dark shadow casting upon cold body, hollow...
Moon's faint image grows over the dark sea, over my dumbness, heartlessness
Mourning over my soul's death...
poem by Lama Abbas
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Of Walls And Oceans
Cold winds strip away face, hands, ankles
stand bare foot on the empty shore
staring out at the endless ocean
sea of happiness
ocean of tears
water and horizon are indivisible
like the atoms that make up everything
if they are divided
every one dies
stay close to the wall
hidden, unnoticed, quiet, landlocked
watch them live, love, laugh
stay deep in side the glass shell
I can see out but I cant hear or touch them
wanting it to explode into a thousand tiny shell pieces
glass fragments
tear drops
soul pieces
so i can race over the land to the waters edge
and burst out over the ocean
into living
away from the wall
By Hut, Homestead And Shearing Shed,
By hut, homestead and shearing shed,
By railroad, coach and track-
By lonely graves where rest the dead,
Up-Country and Out-Back:
To where beneath the clustered stars
The dreamy plains expand-
My home lies wide a thousand miles
In Never-Never Land.
It lies beyond the farming belt,
Wide wastes of scrub and plain,
A blazing desert in the drought,
A lake-land after rain;
To the skyline sweeps the waving grass,
Or whirls the scorching sand-
A phantom land, a mystic realm!
The Never-Never Land.
Where lone Mount Desolation lies
Mounts Dreadful and Despair-
'Tis lost beneath the rainless skies
In hopeless deserts there;
It spreads nor-west by No-Man's Land
Where clouds are seldom seen
To where the cattle stations lie
Three hundred miles between.
The drovers of the Great Stock Routes
The strange Gulf country Know
Where, travelling from the southern droughts,
The big lean bullocks go;
And camped by night where plains lie wide,
Like some old ocean's bed,
The watchmen in the starlight ride
Round fifteen hundred head.
Lest in the city I forget
True mateship after all,
My water-bag and billy yet
Are hanging on the wall;
And I, to save my soul again,
Would tramp to sunsets grand
With sad-eyed mates across the plain
In Never-Never Land.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Never, Never Land
By hut, homestead and shearing shed,
By railroad, coach and track-
By lonely graves where rest the dead,
Up-Country and Out-Back:
To where beneath the clustered stars
The dreamy plains expand-
My home lies wide a thousand miles
In Never-Never Land.
It lies beyond the farming belt,
Wide wastes of scrub and plain,
A blazing desert in the drought,
A lake-land after rain;
To the skyline sweeps the waving grass,
Or whirls the scorching sand-
A phantom land, a mystic realm!
The Never-Never Land.
Where lone Mount Desolation lies
Mounts Dreadful and Despair-
'Tis lost beneath the rainless skies
In hopeless deserts there;
It spreads nor-west by No-Man's Land
Where clouds are seldom seen
To where the cattle stations lie
Three hundred miles between.
The drovers of the Great Stock Routes
The strange Gulf country Know
Where, travelling from the southern droughts,
The big lean bullocks go;
And camped by night where plains lie wide,
Like some old ocean's bed,
The watchmen in the starlight ride
Round fifteen hundred head.
Lest in the city I forget
True mateship after all,
My water-bag and billy yet
Are hanging on the wall;
And I, to save my soul again,
Would tramp to sunsets grand
With sad-eyed mates across the plain
In Never-Never Land.
poem by Henry Lawson
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The Poet's Love-Song
In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind
The world to my desire, and hold the wind
A voiceless captive to my conquering song.
I need thee not, I am content with these:
Keep silence in thy soul, beyond the seas!
But in the desolate hour of midnight, when
An ectasy of starry silence sleeps
And my soul hungers for thy voice, O then,
Love, like the magic of wild melodies,
Let thy soul answer mine across the seas.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Unfathomable World
Unfathomable! woeful world,
The constancy
from the pities is lost,
Wherefore insane
soul of mine,
is gazing to find
the peace of life,
Oh, in vain!
Inscrutable mortal world,
Whatfore demanding the cure, for bleeding heart of mine,
Unfathomable!
Treacherous!
Woeful world!
The heart is destroyed,
Howling alone,
How to rejoice
to revive my pain?
Oh, in vain!
You mortality world,
The surges of stormy
shoreless seas,
Have swift away,
my soul's peace,
In your misty ruined rooms,
my love I lost,
And the spirit is,
tottering lean,
In the rough, strained and pale
Oh, in vain!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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My Last Words
My life is floating on the ocean
of death, heading towards
internal peace with great pace,
'Please call me not, let peace
reign ' cry not let death not feel
supreme to my soul' let my grave
stone speaks my last words.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Republic And Motherland
(Written after entering New York Harbor at Daybreak)
Up the vast harbor with the morning sun
The ship swept in from sea;
Gigantic towers arose, the night was done,
And--there stood Liberty.
Silent, the great torch lifted in one hand,
The dawn in her proud eyes,
Silent, for all the shouts that vex her land,
Silent, hailing the skies;
Hailing that mightier Kingdom of the Blest
Our seamen sought of old,
The dream that lured the nations through the West,
The city of sunset gold.
Saxon and Norman in one wedded soul
Shook out one flag like fire;
But westward, westward, moved the gleaming goal,
Westward, the vast desire.
Westward and ever westward ran the call,
They followed the pilgrim sun,
Seeking that land which should enfold them all,
And weld all hearts in one.
Here on this mightier continent apart,
Here on these rolling plains,
Swells the first throb of that immortal heart,
The pulse of those huge veins.
Still, at these towers, our Old-World cities jest,
And neither hear nor see
The brood of gods at that gigantic breast,
The conquering race to be.
Chosen from many--for no sluggard soul
Confronts that night of stars--
The trumpets of the last Republic roll
Far off, an end to wars;
An end, an end to that wild blood-red age,
That made and keeps us blind;
A mightier realm shall be her heritage,
The kingdom of mankind.
Chosen from many nations, and made one;
But first, O Mother, from thee,
When, following, following on that Pilgrim sun,
Thy Mayflower crossed the sea.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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On This Night
(McDonaldHarrisChiaravalle)
In a world of no hope
A light will shine brightly
That all men might know
The meaning of mercy and of
Love beyond all love
The peace that rests the soul
The heart will open
And search no more
[Chorus:]
Behold I bring you tidings
Tidings of great joy
The world has found it's answer
In a child that's born
On this night
Sing out across the seas
Cry out from the mountains
The son of man is born
So sing of his mercy and his
Peace beyond all peace
The king of kings has come
(let) every heart surrender
Every soul reborn
[Chorus]
song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Water Fountain
I drank glasses of water,
I drank water from office coolers.
Many people drank from water fountains.
I thought my thirst I could slake,
If I drank water from a cool lake.
Then I would would drink cold water,
From gushing waterfalls.
But much to my surprise,
I thirsted for all of Earth's water.
I couldn't fathom my inner self,
About slaking my thirst insatiable.
I couldn't come to grips about,
The deep waters of my life.
Was it my body? Or was it my soul?
Then I very quickly learned,
That this thirst for water that was burning in me,
Was my unending thirst for love
That everybody yearns for.
And everybody needs.
In quantities of glasses, coolers, waterfalls,
Lakes, oceans and seas.
poem by Vera Sidhwa
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Born To Be Together
I want to star in your life
And on the stage of your dreams
In your beginning and your end
And every place between
To open the door of your secret soul
Steal in and stay forever
The streets of you heart are laid with gold
And we were born to be together
Lets build a ship and set sail
Through seas of love well go
To unknown lands and hidden bays
And when theres no wind Ill blow
And when the waves get high and the broadsides fly
I will be your port in stormy weather
Ill rock your bow and show you how
We were born to be together
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To J. S.
The wind, that beats the mountain, blows
More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.
And me this knowledge bolder made,
Or else I had not dare to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.
'Tis strange that those we lean on most,
Those in whose laps our limbs are nursed,
Fall into shadow, soonest lost:
Those we love first are taken first.
God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us; but, when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.
This is the curse of time. Alas!
In grief I am not all unlearn'd;
Once thro' mine own doors Death did pass;
One went, who never hath return'd.
He will not smile--not speak to me
Once more. Two years his chair is seen
Empty before us. That was he
Without whose life I had not been.
Your loss is rarer; for this star
Rose with you thro' a little arc
Of heaven, nor having wander'd far
Shot on the sudden into dark.
I knew your brother: his mute dust
I honour and his living worth:
A man more pure and bold and just
Was never born into the earth.
I have not look'd upon you nigh,
Since that dear soul hath fall'n asleep.
Great nature is more wise than I:
I will not tell you not to weep.
And tho' mine own eyes fill with dew,
Drawn from the spirit thro' the brain,
I will not even preach to you,
"Weep, weeping dulls the inward pain."
Let Grief be her own mistress still.
She loveth her own anguish deep
More than much pleasure. Let her will
Be done--to weep or not to weep.
I will not say "God's ordinance
Of death is blown in every wind;"
For that is not a common chance
That takes away a noble mind.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
Vain solace! Memory standing near
Cast down her eyes, and in her throat
Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear
Dropt on the letters as I wrote.
I wrote I know not what. In truth,
How should I soothe you anyway,
Who miss the brother of your youth?
Yet something I did wish to say:
For he too was a friend to me:
Both are my friends, and my true breast
Bleedeth for both: yet it may be
That only silence suiteth best.
Words weaker than your grief would make
Grief more. 'Twere better I should cease;
Although myself could almost take
The place of him that sleeps in peace.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace;
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet.
Nothing comes to thee new or strange,
Sleep full of rest from head to feet:
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Beneath A Desert Moon
From the mountains of the moon to the mighty delta
From the deserts of the West to the shining sea
Beneath the canopy of stars flowed the serpent river
Flowing through my father's land that he left to me
From the baker to the priest to the candle maker
From the highest to the low in my father's land
We make our offer to the sun 'fore the break of morning
Or else everything we have will just turn to sand
I have a lot to ask
I have a lot that I need to say
I have so much to do
And all I need is another day
From the soldier to the scribe to the carpet maker
All the different colored threads in a carpet loom
A woven tapestry of life is our mighty nation
This is the writing on the wall of my father's tomb
We have a lot to ask
We have a lot that we need to say
We have so much to do
And all we need is another day
Beneath the desert moon I call you
Beneath the desert moon I sing
Beneath the desert moon so lonely
I'm just a boy who would be king
With just the moon to guide us
We sometimes lose our way
If there's a light inside us
We'll follow, follow it to the brightness of the day
Every single blade of grass every yellow flower
Every ripple on the sea or the blue blue Nile
Every leaf on every tree every single creature
From the smallest little bird to the crocodile
We have a lot to ask
We have a lot that we need to say
We have so much to do
And all we need is another day
Beneath the desert moon I call you
Beneath the desert moon we sing
Beneath the desert moon we're waiting
Before the coming of the king
Beneath the desert moon that's sinking
We see the Eastern skies on fire
This is where darkness leaves
And shining waters fall
And let the shadows run
And we'll say, "welcome to the sun"
Brand new day...
From the mountains of the moon to the mighty delta
From the deserts of the West to the shining sea
Beneath the canopy of stars flowed the serpent river
Flowing through my father's land that he left to me
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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