0146 Contemplation's Metaphysical
The height and depth and length and breadth of God -
that's what is promised to contemplatives:
and God, the sphere whose centre's everywhere
and whose circumference is nowhere found:
geometry without coordinates
and integral beyond all integers,
description of the indescribable -
can this reveal the measure of godliness?
God's height: the soul, which knows but upward flight;
God's depth: the depthless deep of human heart;
God's breadth: the mind with limits beyond sight;
God's length: how long He'll wait, while we're apart;
this does but limn the sphere which yet awaits
the soul and heart and mind which contemplates.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.
quote by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Not So Much
It’s
Not so much… “what” you feel
But the “way” that you feel it
Not so much “what” you say
But the manner in which you reveal it
Not so much “how” you loved
More so… how “deep” your affection
Not so much your memories…
More so the richness in your fond reflection
Not so much how long in years you live
But how full your life was… or is to be
It’s not so much in the “what”
But in the “how”… that you can see…
It’s that when I look out the window
Into the inky dark of night
that I can see far beyond the shadows
And the black velvet that blinds your sight
It’s the width….the depth…the height…the breadth
Of life that only age can make one better see
Tis therein that lies the difference… my friend
It’s the difference between thee and me
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For an unnamed teacher
You know that shot, in films and musicals
glamorising La Révolution Francaise:
a hundred metres away, just fitting into
the camera’s breadth of range,
a crowd which signifies rights withheld
advances on you (safe in bourgeois seat…) ,
led by a token handsome, flushed, tall
kerchiefed man or woman, centre-stage?
Today, that’s me – in upraised hand,
a Bill of Poets’ Rights… You said,
I’m told, that ‘if you were a poet,
you would just write praise…’
Do I detect a note
of implied criticism there? …
Did you not know, that every word that poets write
is praise? First, praise of the language that we use –
its glorious flexibility; praise of the chance to use it
at its height and breadth and depth,
freshly - as if it had never put before
this word with that, and made of it new thought
to lodge within your mind, and warm your heart,
to call from soul to soul, of what souls share…
Advancing on the camera, we shout,
if you don’t know this - that all that, is praise…
then you’re not ready for reading poetry, just yet…
‘For this we stand; for this we live; for this we’ll die’…
The photo-opportunity has come and gone;
the cameramen push back, drive to their editors;
the crowd disperses, glowing with its righteousness;
and leaves the world to darkness, and TV…
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The length of your education is less important than its breadth, and the length of your life is less important than its depth.
quote by Marilyn vos Savant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Narrative is linear, but action has breadth and depth as well as height and is solid.
quote by Thomas Carlyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Though Some Good Things Of Lower Worth
The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance. Psalm 16:5.
Though some good things of lower worth
My heart is called on to resign,
Of all the gifts in heaven and earth,
The greatest and the best is mine
The love of God in Christ made known
The love that is enough alone,
My Father's love is all my own.
My soul's Restorer, let me learn
In that deep love to live and rest
Let me the precious thing discern
Of which I am indeed possessed.
My treasure let me feel and see,
And let my moments, as they flee,
Unfold my endless life in Thee.
Let me not dwell so much within
My bounded heart, with anxious heed
Where all my searches meet with sin,
And nothing satisfies my need
It shuts me from the sound and sight
Of that pure world of life and light,
Which has no breadth, or length, or height.
Let me Thy power, Thy beauty see;
So shall the hopeless labor cease,
And my free heart shall follow thee
Through paths of everlasting peace.
My strength Thy gift, my life Thy care,
I shall forget to seek elsewhere
The wealth to which my soul is heir.
I was not called to walk alone,
To clothe myself with love and light;
And for Thy glory, not my own,
My soul is precious in Thy sight.
My evil heart can never be
A home, a heritage for me
But Thou canst make it fit for Thee.
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by John Wesley
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Hymn XXVII: Saviour, the World's and Mine
Saviour, the world's and mine,
Was ever grief like thine!
Thou my pain, my curse hast took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Help me, Lord; to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee.
'Tis done! my God hath died;
My Love is crucified!
Break, this stony heart of mine;
Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood;
Feel, my soul, the pangs divine;
Catch, my heart, the issuing blood!
When, O my God, shall I
For thee submit to die?
How the mighty debt repay?
Rival of thy passion prove?
Lead me in thyself, the Way;
Melt my hardness into love.
To love is all my wish,
I only live for this;
Grant me, Lord, my heart's desire,
There by faith for ever dwell;
This I always will require,
Thee, and only thee, to feel.
Thy power I pant to prove,
Rooted and fixed in love;
Strengthened by thy Spirit's might,
Wise to fathom things divine,
What the length, and breadth, and height,
What the depth of love like thine.
Ah! give me this to know,
With all thy saints below;
Swells my soul to compass thee,
Gasps in thee to live and move;
Filled with all the Deity,
All immersed and lost in love!
poem by Charles Wesley
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We all must drink the water of life
Neutrality is the balance
between bad and good
life is water...
a balance between good and bad,
we all must drink the water of life!
Depth from depth
..the pain
length from length
..the struggle
mile to mile
.. the frustration
a bitter taste
a rotten smell
a water we must drink
yet a water needed for survival
Height to height
..the pleasure
reach to reach
..the satisfaction
bredth to bredth
..the joy
a sweet taste
a fresh smell
a water we must drink
a water oh so sweet for survival
Waters of success
sweet to the mouth
a reward to the soul
the waters of life
a journey of thirst
a well of plenty
Waters of failure
bitter to the mouth
a teacher to the listening soul
the river of death
the most bitter water of all
yet a water we must all drink
... to satisfaction
The river runs black and rough
to the uncertain end
but certain finish
where taste is empty
smell is neutral
and realisation is simple,
where all find and embrace,
a moment of peace.
poem by Allen Steble
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In The Spirit Of Rumi 49 - The Mind
O Mind, where are you this morning?
I really need your help…
God bestowed on you His most precious gift –
He gave you the ticket to roam
the length and breadth and height of all His lovely Creation
- as much as any mind can know what’s there
behind what’s there –
you use this ticket all the time,
but have you ever thanked Him?
When it’s time for you to come home
because you’re needed there
you send a message saying,
I’m busy here – I’ll be back later –
and then, what happens?
You dream up ideas of 'me' and 'mine',
and then like a dog, bury a juicy bone
because you don't trust your Master
to feed you every day...
My body was made by God, and
fed by Him every day, but
it’s always here at home; and
it would love you to be home…
My soul was made by God, and
fed by Him every day, but
it’s always here at home; and
it would love you to be home…
O Mind, you were made by God and
fed by Him every day, and
given this freedom pass by Him;
why can’t you be here at home when you’re needed?
You’re supposed to be my servant;
Did I not train you properly?
loved you perhaps too much?
I have urgent errands every day for you;
when you’ve done them, I’m happy
to let you off the leash, laughing, barking,
leaping, panting, your tail wagging like mad
at the fun of being you…
Please, Mind, be a good dog..
we’ll love each other all the more…
I promise…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Do I Love Thee
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Love in its Purity
Love is a language of the heart-
It is prose and poetry
It is in film or comedy
And yet nothing can fathom
its own depth, height or breadth.
Love is a dream in every heart,
an object of conquest and war
It mirrors greed, pride and honor
And yet love's own purity remains
above intrigues and heroic motives.
Love is a gift from above -
an agape love from the heart of God
We humans can abuse it,
ignore it, trample on it, burn it
but love surfaces out so purely
in its inmost beauty to protect,
affirm, preserve and uphold life.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet XLIII
How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life !--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Xliii
How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life !--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Identification
Camel knows about the desert
but nothing about the tent.
Shark knows about the ocean
but scares of dolphins.
Bird knows about the sky
but never been to sun &moon.
Snake knows about the earth
but villain is the mongoose.
And the big-headed man too
knows about everything,
secret whisper in the desert
depth of the ocean
length & breadth of the vast sky
mysterious earth.
The intellectual boasts
from the top floors of the universities
but he knows very few
about the attractive, fragile and sensitive
Womankind!
and never understand her mind?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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To Love Without Measure
when i say i love you
there is no meter to it
no scales
from one to ten
no scores till the hundred
there is no depth
nothing about height
there is nothing to measure
nothing to price
for love is as light as air
and fills every empty space
for love cannot be weighed
and beyond what is heavy
or burdensome
its depth is beyond comprehension
its value is priceless
its measure
immeasurable.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet 43 - How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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