Related quotes: Upon a lonely mountain, there...

The Two Hermits

Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.

Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.

One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'

Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'

Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'

And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'

But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'

Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'

But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'

poem by Khalil Gibran
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Related quotes

Hermits have no peer pressure.

quote by Steven Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But I'll tell you what hermits realize. If you go off into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you'll come to understand that you're connected with everything.

quote by Alan Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New York has more hermits than will be found in all the forests, mountains and deserts of the United States.

quote by Simeon Strunsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mountain Top

I love to sing and I love to pray,
Worship the lord most every day.
I go to the temple, and I just want to stay
To hide from the hustle of the world and its ways.
And id
Love to live on a mountain top,
Fellowshipping with the lord.
Id love to stand on a mountain top,
cause I love to feel my spirit
Soar....
But Ive got to come down
>from the mountain top
To the people in the valley below;
Theyll never know
That they can go
To the mountain of the lord.
Now praising the father is a good thing to do,
To worship the trinity in spirit and truth.
But if we worshipped all of the time,
Well, there would be no one to lead the blind.
But id
Love to live on a mountain top,
Just fellowshipping with the lord.
And Id love to stand on a mountain top,
cause I love to feel my spirit
Soar.... (soar....)
But Ive got to come down
>from the mountain top
To the people in the valley below;
Theyll never know
That they can go
To the mountain of the lord.
I am not saying that worship is wrong,
But worship is more than just singin some songs,
cause its all that we say and everything that we do;
Its letting gods spirit live through you.
Still, id
Love to live on a mountain top
Fellowshipping with the lord.
Id love to stand on a mountain top,
cause I love to feel my spirit
Soar.... (soar....)

song performed by by Amy Grant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ancient Dust Of My Homeland

Spirit of Mystic Aoteaora, enter into me
Land of Long White Cloud, enter into me
Spirit of My Forebears Ancestors, enter into me
Spirit you called Legendary Fairy Folk, enter into me

Spirit of ice capped southern mountains,
rivers forests glaciers, enter into me
Spirit of this old mystic majestic land,
encapsulating my birthright, enter into me

Dark majestic nights descend
upon wild west coast beaches,
Moonlight lapping serene wave tops
sparkling with ephemeral magic

Spirit of multitudinal diverse natures
Blowing in spray blown sea breezes,
Spirit of ancient dust of my homeland
Spirit of ancient Aotearoa, enter into me

Aotearoa (pronounced [aoˌ teaˈ roa]) is the most widely known and accepted Mā ori name for New Zealand.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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These men of Faith

These men of Faith, these men of old,

Their lives they lived, they were so bold;

Trusting God, in the face of danger,

But their enemy, shunned them with anger.

We know of one great man, Daniel, was his name,

To Pray at the open window, he always did the same;

Then some jealous men, had him enter lions den,

For his faith in God, and On God he did depend.

Another man was Elijah, who helped so many,

And he had trouble with Jezebel, a life of jealousy;

Also king Ahab, and a wicked and evil king too,

But for their evil doing, they died, oh yes! It's true.

The next great man of Faith, was Enoch,

He lived and spoke only for the Lord God;

He was so very close, he did walk upright,

And God took Him home, he lived by Faith not sight.

One more man of Faith, I need to tell about,

Was Abraham, and to a new home he was sent out;

Also when his son Isaac, was to be offered to the Lord,

But a ram was supplied, his faith shone, it's in His Word.

These men are an example, and we should follow too,

Trust God in the face of Danger, Trust Him thru' and thru';

These men of God trusted and never gave into sin,

Because they loved God so much, He lived within.

poem by Margaret Haig
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On The Shores Of My Island

on the shores of my island
are rocks
and stones with sharp
teeth

do not come
with bare feet

if you can invent wings
try putting them on

i am a friend of birds
and all that
is taking the softness
and blues
of clouds

the breeze puts the music
to my shells

they are all empty
the hermits are dead.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mountain Woman

They lived together in a dirty old shack
At the edge of the black rocky mountain
And they drank mountain dew and they lived on the food
That they grew at the side of the mountain
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] down the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Mountain woman couldnt read nor write
But she knew good from evil, she know wrong from right
When the government tried to buy her water rights
Her intuition was her only guide
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
They [? ] by the valley
Shes a mountain woman, hes her mountain man
Uneducated but theyre happy
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Were uneducated by were happy
The civil servant used compulsory purchase
To acquire the [? ] for the nation
Theyll dig up the land, theyre gonna make a dam
And build a hydroelectric power station
And now she lives on the 33rd floor
Of a man-made concrete mountain
She got an elevator and refrigerator
And an automobile to run around in
Fast talkin lawyers from the government
Went and beat proud mountain woman down
Hey mountain woman, take your mountain man
They took your land and flood your valley
Spend my life with my mountain woman
Theyre uneducated by theyre happy

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away The Bowl

Our grateful hearts with temperance burn,
Away, away the bowl,
From dram shops all, our steps we turn,
Away, away the bowl;
Farewell to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the wine-cup's boasted charms,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.

See how that staggering drunkard reels!
Away, away the bowl;
Alas, the misery he reveals,
Away, away the bowl;
His children grieve, his wife's in tears!
How sad his once bright home appears!
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.

We drink no more, nor buy nor sell,
Away, away the bowl!
The grog-shop's offers we repel,
Away, away the bowl.
United in a temperance band,
We 're joined in heart, we 're joined in hand,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.

poem by John Pierpont
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Rumors, Lies and Infernal Spies

Damned ARE the Evil-
That cast their spells (hex)
To a fiery grave they are bound-
Destinataion-Earthen Hell;

Some often times refer to it-
As the River Styx-
Where all condemned when dying-
Enter into Hell and the Rivers fiery mix;

Evil comes in all shapes and sizes-
Witches come in all styles -
Absolute wickedness 'tis recognized..-
Oft' times in words of bitter bile;

Clinching for all who NEED: 'To Know'
The accurate count and details..-
Where Evil grows and God-He knows-
Quenches the victims of the spells travail;

Much suffering has already been spent...! ! !
To wit and his viscious spark..-
Still inflict with their sharpest blows-
From deep in their Infernal Dark;

May 16,2010

Just a write about the evil that some
Still practice in this (civilized?) world.

poem by Theodora Onken
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Cameron

Cameron the cat would never miss a trick –
Often in the garden on patrol.
Otherwise sleeping, though frequently meeting
His one and only love – that earthen bowl!

Cameron the cat took everything for granted -
Sure, the street lay under his control.
Contentedly snoozing – perhaps he 'd been boozing –
And toasting all that counts: his dearest bowl!

Cameron the cat would seek to take advantage –
His gullible owners often on parole.
Purring pathetically, and almost poetically,
He'd meow them into stacking up his bowl!

Cameron the cat was nonetheless a gem –
His owners saw him as their heart and soul,
But having to accept that he was so adept
At persuading them to fill his flipping bowl!

cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat
cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat
cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat
cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Old Gold Veterans

Build a new ship in the shipyard of Mankind
That never sinks in the Seven Seas
And sail the ship with all the Veterans in an auspicious time
That heads to the land of Hermits
Where there are no any wars at all.

* Almost Heaven!
Life is older there
Older than the trees
Younger than the Mountains
Growing like a breeze.
-John.Denver-

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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No Cell-phones During Office Hours

‘The Rise and Function of the
Holy Man during Late Antiquity’
might sound as dry as desert sand,
or equally, excuse the pun, deserted…
but no, it holds a lively story:

the Christian world, gearing up
to tell the AD/CE world the bestest news;
the fervent, eager converts, wanting only
the time to cultivate their fledgling souls…
so where to retreat for this – the monasteries, of course..

wrong. The monasteries became compulsory
recruiting grounds for Church and for society:
a deacon needed for a distant land
to sort out heresies; an emissary
from this Christian nation’s court to that;
monks dragged out into the world
to rule unwieldy bishoprics…
administer, endlessly administer...

so the totally devout had no option
but to set off and become solitaries, hermits
further and further into the desert..there,
became holier and holier; then, accidentally, perhaps,
miracles began to be spoken of, around them;
they, half embarrassed, half amused,
accepting this as God’s strange requirement of them…

and then the wannabees and the true disciples
trekked after them; bedded down, built lodgings
for their devout B&B-ers, or
stayed to tend to the submissive saint;
consulted, questioned, hung around;
until finally, the patient but exhausted saint
took off for an even wilder place…
that’s why there are so many
monasteries in the desert lands…

meanwhile, advice from their superiors,
concerned for them, then followed them:
black out your window embrasures; put up notices
at the gate: ‘This is a silent zone between the hours
of 8 am and 8 pm’… (that should test their faith...): and
‘No talking during Lent’…

and when they trekked out to be in that sacred presence
of the truly holy man, they naturally brought gifts;
(and you can guess, there were lines which could be lifted
from ‘The Life of Brian’ – ‘I suppose a smallish miracle
would be too much to ask…? ’

It’s said that when they excavate,
those lonely hermits’ cells out in the desert are found
to be ‘like well-furnished consulting suites’…

There’s no joke like a holy joke…

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fire Spirit

(gun club)
I can see clearly from my diamond eyes
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will accept all of me, so the fire will stop
And for the straights that got fire cars
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will take all of me, and the fire will stop
I will be cheating the whole ritual
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
No one will accept all of me, and the fire will stop
Someone weird read: pen down a circle
Yeah, someone left on a burned out world
Someone knows Im dead as hell
Where the old north wind blows through southeast hell, yeah
And then john was betrayed by the machine
A proper circuit was a promise to me
Im going up to the mountain to see
How blessing will set me free, yeah
I had to do something
I was wearing down
I was going down
Why can no one ever touch a fire spirit?
Why can no one ever hold a fire spirit?
Why can no one ever feel a fire spirit?
I am going to the mountain
Yeah, I can see clearly from my diamond eyes
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
And no one will accept all of me, so the fire will stop
With too much patience and too much pain
Im going to the mountain with a fire spirit
To make amends for all of me, and the fire will stop

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seamen Three

Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.

Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.

Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Three Men of Gotham

SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.

Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Sonnet: The Place for Hermits

Why hermits choose to live alone so high?
Why saints choose forests for building their huts?
By keeping off cities, crowds bring God nigh;
Such decisions require real guts.

In solitude, one realizes God;
In silence, Nature’s beauty is felt more;
The mountain-tops, clouds look like God’s abode;
The wild berries and streams form main food-store.

And time ticks slowly while the air is clean;
An ideal place for meditations oft;
The flora, fauna form a splendid scene;
The voice of Mother Nature is heard soft.

Such environs help saints do yogic feats;
To control breathing, mind and all heart beats.

9-9-2002

poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: The Potter Makes All Earthen Pots Alike

World’s mole-hill good is dwarfed by mountain bad!
The righteous few by countless evil hearts;
That God’s beside the upright makes us glad;
Do good all life, ignoring evil arts!

No instrument is evil by itself;
Its use by man decides its value true;
Man’s heart can be like angel or an elf;
The net result depends on what we do!

The man behind the machine decides use;
The mind behind an idea, abuse;
A gadget can better or worsen things;
Equal are paupers before God to kings!

The Potter makes all earthen pots alike:
The devils aid to earn divine dislike!

poem by John Celes
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Incense

Think not that incense-smoke has had its day.
My friends, the incense-time has but begun.
Creed upon creed, cult upon cult shall bloom,
Shrine after shrine grow gray beneath the sun.

And mountain-boulders in our aged West
Shall guard the graves of hermits truth-endowed:
And there the scholar from the Chinese hills
Shall do deep honor, with his wise head bowed.

And on our old, old plains some muddy stream,
Dark as the Ganges, shall, like that strange tide —
(Whispering mystery to half the earth) —
Gather the praying millions to its side,

And flow past halls with statues in white stone
To saints unborn to-day, whose lives of grace
Shall make one shining, universal church
Where all Faiths kneel, as brothers, in one place.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Kingdom of the dead souls

I couldn't be a Crown Prince in my whole life
And here in the isolated graveyard
I am the King of the benighted Kingdom
As I am the only tomb-grave stands among the paupers.
The poor grave-digger used to drink beside my tomb, I too intoxicate
And sometimes we talk about lot of things.
The poor rest graves very quiet as hermits even after their deaths.
(And I hear the melody, miraculous pan flute of Georghe Zamfir's in a distant.)