Death
The awful seers of old who wrote, in words
Like drops of blood, great thoughts that through the night
Of ages burn, as eyes of lions light
Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with songs like swords
The soul of man on its most secret chords,
And made the heart of him a harp to smite--
Where are they? Where that old man lorn of sight,
The king of song among these laurelled lords?
But where are all the ancient singing-spheres
That burst through chaos like the summer's breath
Through ice-bound seas where never seaman steers?
Burnt out. Gone down. No star remembereth
These stars and seers well-silenced through the years--
The songless years of everlasting death.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Related quotes
The Departed
Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world with kings,
The powerful of the earth the wise the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. ~ BRYANT.
AND shrink ye from the way
To the spirit's distant shore?
Earth's mightiest men, in arm'd array,
Are thither gone before.
The warrior kings, whose banner
Flew far as eagles fly,
They are gone where swords avail them not,
From the feast of victory.
And the seers who sat of yore
By orient palm or wave,
They have pass'd with all their starry lore
Can ye still fear the grave?
We fear! we fear! the sunshine
Is joyous to behold,
And we reck not of the buried kings,
Nor the awful seers of old.
Ye shrink! the bards whose lays
Have made your deep hearts burn,
They have left the sun, and the voice of praise,
For the land whence none return.
And the beautiful, whose record
Is the verse that cannot die,
They too are gone, with their glorious bloom,
From the love of human eye.
Would ye not join that throng
Of the earth's departed flowers,
And the masters of the mighty song
In their far and fadeless bowers?
Those songs are high and holy,
But they vanquish not our fear;
Not from our path those flowers are gone
We fain would linger here!
Linger then yet awhile,
As the last leaves on the bough!
Ye have lov'd the light of many a smile,
That is taken from you now.
There have been sweet singing voices
In your walks, that now are still;
There are seats left void in your earthly homes,
Which none again may fill.
Soft eyes are seen no more,
That made spring-time in your heart;
Kindred and friends are gone before
And ye still fear to part?
We fear not now, we fear not!
Though the way thro' darkness bends;
Our souls are strong to follow them,
Our own familiar friends!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Burn Into New Awareness Awakenings
stars whisper secret words
into night search soul depths
myriads myriads burn stars
all speaking at once
cosmic conversations
overwhelm senses
all speaking souls at once
whisper cosmic conversations
overwhelm clay cast senses
listen listen my mystic soul
arise up through star gates
speak with far blazing suns
speak with earth biological soul
earth alive nurtures sown one great soul
each human soul but a single cell
each cell destined to evolve
to evolve into spiritual awakenings
universe sings creation songs
earth bound souls three dimensions
bound must rise up through creations
comprehension layers to awakenings
burn souls burn off impurities
burn into new awareness awakenings
burn into perfected light realms
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Song of a Thousand Years
Lift up your eyes desponding freemen!
Fling to the winds your needless fears!
He who unfurl'd your beauteous banner,
Says it shall wave a thousand years!
"A thousand years!" my own Columbia!
'Tis the glad day so long foretold!
'Tis the glad morn whose early twilight
Washington saw in times of old.
What if the clouds, one little moment,
Hide the blue sky where morn appears --
When the bright sun, that tints them crimson,
Rises to shine a thousand years?
Tell the great world those bless-ed tidings!
Yes, and be sure the bondman hears;
Tell the oppress'd of ev'ry nation,
Jubilee lasts a thousand years!
Fearless foes, beyond the ocean!
Little we heed your threat'ning sneers;
Little will they -- our children's children --
When you are gone a thousand years.
Rebels at home! go hide your faces --
Weep for your crimes with bitter tears;
_You_ could not bind the blessed daylight,
Though you should strive a thousand years.
Back to your dens, ye secret traitors!
Down to your own degraded spheres!
Ere the first blaze of dazzling sunshine
Shortens your lives a thousand years.
Haste thee along, this glorious Noonday!
Oh, for the eyes of ancient seers!
Oh, for the faith of Him who reckons
Each of his days a thousand years.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Keeper of the Ancient Doors
Thou Keeper of the ancient doors
Thou Angel of the deep in the light
Thou Spirit in the seers of the times of yore
Thou that keeps the secrets of the distant future
Thou that preserves the history of the ancient past
Grant thou me entrance through thy door
That I may see into the future with thee
For unto the prince of darkness the world shall turn
Save thou grant the son of light the future’s light
Unstop my ears to the whispers from the future
Enlighten my eyes to behold the things that shall be
Grant thou me the spirit of the future today
That I might ride on his wings to times yet unborn
Let me soar on the wings of the eagle from the future
That I may see beyond the now and the near
For unto thee the future is as history in the open
And before thy eyes is nothing ever concealed at-all
Quicken my discernment in line with thine
That I may discern the way thou doesth
Move my heart beyond the things of now
That my passions may be for things unseen
Come unto me oh Spirit of the ancient seers
Come now unto me thou companion of the seers of light
Spirits of my kinds that treaded these realms before me
Grant unto me thine eyes to see beyond the times of now
And spare thou me thy ears to hear from the future
Say unto me the mysteries that are hidden
Open unto me the choices of men yet unmade
Thou that knowest tomorrow teach thou me
Thou that seeesth tomorrow show thou me
Beyond the quest for the things of now
I crave to see the things to come
As my destiny and inheritance in the light
Thou that came upon Daniel here am I for thee
Thou that came upon John descend now on me
Thou Spirit that was on Patmos be my guide today
Possess thou me, Spirit of the seers in the light
Open am I unto all thy visions
And unto thy voice I yield this day
Grant thou me the pass to the future thou seeth
Thou Keeper of the ancient doors
-Samson Ajilore 25: 06: ’11,1pm FCT
poem by Samson Ajilore
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To George B. Cheever
So spake Esaias: so, in words of flame,
Tekoa's prophet-herdsman smote with blame
The traffickers in men, and put to shame,
All earth and heaven before,
The sacerdotal robbers of the poor.
All the dread Scripture lives for thee again,
To smite like lightning on the hands profane
Lifted to bless the slave-whip and the chain.
Once more the old Hebrew tongue
Bends with the shafts of God a bow new-strung!
Take up the mantle which the prophets wore;
Warn with their warnings, show the Christ once more
Bound, scourged, and crucified in His blameless poor;
And shake above our land
The unquenched bolts that blazed in Hosea's hand!
Not vainly shalt thou cast upon our years
The solemn burdens of the Orient seers,
And smite with truth a guilty nation's ears.
Mightier was Luther's word
Than Seckingen's mailed arm or Hutton's sword!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Star Child
A child 5 years of age stared into the sun
She stared into the bright lights so long it
Burnt a hole in her mind and branded her eyes
It imprinted upon her soul, mysteries of both young and old
And then shed close her eyes tight to feel the darkness
Shes a dancing girl, dancing girl
She danced so fast, so fine
She danced around with her eyes shut
To see the stars in her mind
A spinning jupiter, a spinning mars
She herself was just a singing star
A breathing constellation
Cause shes a bright point of light
Traveling through the skies of her mind
Oh and how she knew the stars
And the map of the human heart
For long lengths of time, shed stay in her mind
And follow roads back, ancient tracks and primitive times
When giant birds lifted themselves of
Starry wings to burn white, fiery silhouettes into the night sky
Shes a dancing girl, dancing girl
She danced for them
And she followed all the lines back
To where they did begin
She saw her mother in pegas wings
She felt her father in a scorpial sting
A genetic constellation
Cause she was a bright point of light
Traveling through the skies of her mind
Oh and how she knew the stars
And the map of the human heart
She saw bursting flowers made of lucride stone
Shooting stars who songs sang to her bones
She saw stories her grandfather used to tell
His flesh was frozen was frozen and kept so well
And a clear meeting of words, but pictures to
Tell her what she knew she needed to hear
Shes a dancing girl, dancing girl
She danced so fast, so well
And she danced until her knees got weak
And all resistance fell
And all the walls, they came tumbling down
She stood eyes open, back on the ground
Wiser, full of glory
She was a bright point of light
Traveling through the skies of her mind
Oh and how she knew the stars
And the map of the human heart
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Voices of Earth
We have not heard the music of the spheres,
The song of star to star, but there are sounds
More deep than human joy and human tears,
That Nature uses in her common rounds;
The fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
The oak, the roaring of the sea's surge, might
Of thunder breaking afar off, or rain
That falls by minutes in the summer night.
These are the voices of earth's secret soul,
Uttering the mystery from which she came.
To him who hears them grief beyond control,
Or joy inscrutable without a name,
Wakes in his heart thoughts bedded there, impearled,
Before the birth and making of the world.
poem by Archibald Lampman
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Many Selves, Many Places
If you consider no physical time
you would think the soul could be
anywhere on a dime.
In fact your spiritual selves are out there in the stars
you are living multiple lives, maybe one on old Mars.
Looking at a star is looking into the past
light years away is where you are at
—but not a proven scientific fact.
For only the angels, seers and watchers know
all of the interdimensional secrets that do not show.
So I pose a question you could ponder-
use your imagination and let your mind wander-
The Physical universe is parallel to the spiritual universe.
is it not?
If so—can your soul be in different realms and different
Physical places without your own Earthly thoughts?
Written by Christina Sunrise on September 30,2012
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzae.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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A New Year's Message To Joseph Mazzini
Send the stars light, but send not love to me.
Shelley.
I
Out of the dawning heavens that hear
Young wings and feet of the new year
Move through their twilight, and shed round
Soft showers of sound,
Soothing the season with sweet rain,
If greeting come to make me fain,
What is it I can send again?
2
I know not if the year shall send
Tidings to usward as a friend,
And salutation, and such things
Bear on his wings
As the soul turns and thirsts unto
With hungering eyes and lips that sue
For that sweet food which makes all new.
3
I know not if his light shall be
Darkness, or else light verily:
I know but that it will not part
Heart's faith from heart,
Truth from the trust in truth, nor hope
From sight of days unscaled that ope
Beyond one poor year's horoscope.
4
That faith in love which love's self gives,
O master of my spirit, lives,
Having in presence unremoved
Thine head beloved,
The shadow of thee, the semitone
Of thy voice heard at heart and known,
The light of thee not set nor flown.
5
Seas, lands, and hours, can these divide
Love from love's service, side from side,
Though no sound pass nor breath be heard
Of one good word?
To send back words of trust to thee
Were to send wings to love, when he
With his own strong wings covers me.
6
Who shall teach singing to the spheres,
Or motion to the flight of years?
Let soul with soul keep hand in hand
And understand,
As in one same abiding-place
We keep one watch for one same face
To rise in some short sacred space.
7
And all space midway is but nought
To keep true heart from faithful thought,
As under twilight stars we wait
By Time's shut gate
Till the slow soundless hinges turn,
And through the depth of years that yearn
The face of the Republic burn.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Mater Triumphalis
Mother of man's time-travelling generations,
Breath of his nostrils, heartblood of his heart,
God above all Gods worshipped of all nations,
Light above light, law beyond law, thou art.
Thy face is as a sword smiting in sunder
Shadows and chains and dreams and iron things;
The sea is dumb before thy face, the thunder
Silent, the skies are narrower than thy wings.
Angels and Gods, spirit and sense, thou takest
In thy right hand as drops of dust or dew;
The temples and the towers of time thou breakest,
His thoughts and words and works, to make them new.
All we have wandered from thy ways, have hidden
Eyes from thy glory and ears from calls they heard;
Called of thy trumpets vainly, called and chidden,
Scourged of thy speech and wounded of thy word.
We have known thee and have not known thee; stood beside thee,
Felt thy lips breathe, set foot where thy feet trod,
Loved and renounced and worshipped and denied thee,
As though thou wert but as another God,
"One hour for sleep," we said, "and yet one other;
All day we served her, and who shall serve by night?"
Not knowing of thee, thy face not knowing, O mother,
O light wherethrough the darkness is as light.
Men that forsook thee hast thou not forsaken,
Races of men that knew not hast thou known;
Nations that slept thou hast doubted not to waken,
Worshippers of strange Gods to make thine own.
All old grey histories hiding thy clear features,
O secret spirit and sovereign, all men's tales,
Creeds woven of men thy children and thy creatures,
They have woven for vestures of thee and for veils.
Thine hands, without election or exemption,
Feed all men fainting from false peace or strife,
O thou, the resurrection and redemption,
The godhead and the manhood and the life.
Thy wings shadow the waters; thine eyes lighten
The horror of the hollows of the night;
The depths of the earth and the dark places brighten
Under thy feet, whiter than fire is white.
Death is subdued to thee, and hell's bands broken;
Where thou art only is heaven; who hears not thee,
Time shall not hear him; when men's names are spoken,
A nameless sign of death shall his name be.
Deathless shall be the death, the name be nameless;
Sterile of stars his twilight time of breath;
With fire of hell shall shame consume him shameless,
And dying, all the night darken his death.
The years are as thy garments, the world's ages
As sandals bound and loosed from thy swift feet;
Time serves before thee, as one that hath for wages
Praise or shame only, bitter words or sweet.
Thou sayest "Well done," and all a century kindles;
Again thou sayest "Depart from sight of me,"
And all the light of face of all men dwindles,
And the age is as the broken glass of thee.
The night is as a seal set on men's faces,
On faces fallen of men that take no light,
Nor give light in the deeps of the dark places,
Blind things, incorporate with the body of night.
Their souls are serpents winterbound and frozen,
Their shame is as a tame beast, at their feet
Couched; their cold lips deride thee and thy chosen,
Their lying lips made grey with dust for meat.
Then when their time is full and days run over,
The splendour of thy sudden brow made bare
Darkens the morning; thy bared hands uncover
The veils of light and night and the awful air.
And the world naked as a new-born maiden
Stands virginal and splendid as at birth,
With all thine heaven of all its light unladen,
Of all its love unburdened all thine earth.
For the utter earth and the utter air of heaven
And the extreme depth is thine and the extreme height;
Shadows of things and veils of ages riven
Are as men's kings unkingdomed in thy sight.
Through the iron years, the centuries brazen-gated,
By the ages' barred impenetrable doors,
From the evening to the morning have we waited,
Should thy foot haply sound on the awful floors.
The floors untrodden of the sun's feet glimmer,
The star-unstricken pavements of the night;
Do the lights burn inside? the lights wax dimmer
On festal faces withering out of sight.
The crowned heads lose the light on them; it may be
Dawn is at hand to smite the loud feast dumb;
To blind the torch-lit centuries till the day be,
The feasting kingdoms till thy kingdom come.
Shall it not come? deny they or dissemble,
Is it not even as lightning from on high
Now? and though many a soul close eyes and tremble,
How should they tremble at all who love thee as I?
I am thine harp between thine hands, O mother!
All my strong chords are strained with love of thee.
We grapple in love and wrestle, as each with other
Wrestle the wind and the unreluctant sea.
I am no courtier of thee sober-suited,
Who loves a little for a little pay.
Me not thy winds and storms nor thrones disrooted
Nor molten crowns nor thine own sins dismay.
Sinned hast thou sometime, therefore art thou sinless;
Stained hast thou been, who art therefore without stain;
Even as man's soul is kin to thee, but kinless
Thou, in whose womb Time sows the all-various grain.
I do not bid thee spare me, O dreadful mother!
I pray thee that thou spare not, of thy grace.
How were it with me then, if ever another
Should come to stand before thee in this my place?
I am the trumpet at thy lips, thy clarion
Full of thy cry, sonorous with thy breath;
The graves of souls born worms and creeds grown carrion
Thy blast of judgment fills with fires of death.
Thou art the player whose organ-keys are thunders,
And I beneath thy foot the pedal prest;
Thou art the ray whereat the rent night sunders,
And I the cloudlet borne upon thy breast.
I shall burn up before thee, pass and perish,
As haze in sunrise on the red sea-line;
But thou from dawn to sunsetting shalt cherish
The thoughts that led and souls that lighted mine.
Reared between night and noon and truth and error,
Each twilight-travelling bird that trills and screams
Sickens at midday, nor can face for terror
The imperious heaven's inevitable extremes.
I have no spirit of skill with equal fingers
At sign to sharpen or to slacken strings;
I keep no time of song with gold-perched singers
And chirp of linnets on the wrists of kings.
I am thy storm-thrush of the days that darken,
Thy petrel in the foam that bears thy bark
To port through night and tempest; if thou hearken,
My voice is in thy heaven before the lark.
My song is in the mist that hides thy morning,
My cry is up before the day for thee;
I have heard thee and beheld thee and give warning,
Before thy wheels divide the sky and sea.
Birds shall wake with thee voiced and feathered fairer,
To see in summer what I see in spring;
I have eyes and heart to endure thee, O thunder-bearer,
And they shall be who shall have tongues to sing.
I have love at least, and have not fear, and part not
From thine unnavigable and wingless way;
Thou tarriest, and I have not said thou art not,
Nor all thy night long have denied thy day.
Darkness to daylight shall lift up thy paean,
Hill to hill thunder, vale cry back to vale,
With wind-notes as of eagles AEschylean,
And Sappho singing in the nightingale.
Sung to by mighty sons of dawn and daughters,
Of this night's songs thine ear shall keep but one;
That supreme song which shook the channelled waters,
And called thee skyward as God calls the sun.
Come, though all heaven again be fire above thee;
Though death before thee come to clear thy sky;
Let us but see in his thy face who love thee;
Yea, though thou slay us, arise and let us die.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Last Song
When I lost my way
You were my light
When the others wronged me
You did me right
When I look in your eyes
Dont tell me lies
You tell me the truth
Your words, they get me through
This is all Ive got
This is all Id say
If this were my last day
This is my last song
Its all I got
If I bare my soul
Dont you break my heart
Wont you sing along
This is my last song
Its all I got
So dont you break my heart
Wrote down these words
Put them in this song
I play it for you
Pray they dont come out wrong
Cause all Ive gots my word
I give it to you
Now it may not be much
Its the best that I can do
This is all Ive got
This is all I say
So please dont walk away
This is my last song
Its all I got
If I bare my soul
Dont you break my heart
Wont you sing along
This is my last song
Its all I got
So dont you break my heart
Solo
If this were my last breath
Or my last day
My last chance
This is what Id say
I thank you for the laughter
Sorry for the tears
Time to say goodbye
I say goodbye
After all these years
Chorus
You shouldnt have broke my heart
song performed by by Poison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The winner Felt Empty, Be empty to Be A Winner!
After Kalinga war,
Emperor Ashoka looking at
the heap of corps,
Stream of blood,
Fell into well of deep thoughts,
What made civilians to fight for
Kalinga king? People chose to die, never liked
to live without the king!
The winner felt empty!
Even in his vast empire,
he didn't find such love of people,
This made him turn 180 degree, turn from outward to inward,
from desires of world turned to
desire to attain peace!
Sword lost it sharpness,
Words of Buddha became his
sword, To cut the roots of pain and
penury of heart!
The love the king imparted,
the love of people the king
gained,
Were his guide! When Alexander came,
Pururava taught him the
Dharma,
The Lion is always lion,
King of the jungle,
Whether in jungle or in a cage, 'Treat me as kIng, if not let me
fight till my death,
Dandimas words already made
his swords blunt,
The words of king made him,
Turn outward to inward, The disciple of Aristotle,
Desireless he became,
Meditating on Dandimas's words, Siddhartha's journey to became
Buddha,
Seeing dukha, dukha, dukha
behind every sukha
Why can't we see that in our life? Vardhamana's journey to
Mahaveera,
Adam and apple,
Made him outward,
Different story of
Newton and apple, Fall of Einstein from ladder,
turned them inward for answers, Venkataramana's fear of death,
Turned him inward,
Maharshi Ramana emerged
winning the death! Meditate on root of all causes,
Not on the branches,
Be Chanakya, to remove root of
ignorance,
Nothing makes one free,
Than that nothingness, Empty the pot and wash,
Before fill divine in it,
Be empty, be a winner!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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The Loom of Years
In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.
The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.
Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,
One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Amaranth
ONCE a poet—long ago—
Wrote a song as void of art
As the songs that children know,
And as pure as a child’s heart.
With a sigh he threw it down,
Saying, “This will never shed
Any glory or renown
On my name when I am dead.
“I will sing a lordly song
Men shall hear, when I am gone,
Through the years sound clear and strong
As a golden clarion.”
So this lordly song he sang
That would gain him deathless fame—
When the death-knell o’er him rang
No man even knew its name.
Ay, and when his way he found
To the place of singing souls,
And beheld their bright heads crowned
With song-woven aureoles,
He stood shame-faced in the throng,
For his brow of wreath was bare,
And, alas! his lordly song
Sere had grown in that sweet air;
Then, all sudden, a divine
Light fell on him from afar,
And he felt the child-song shine
On his forehead like a star.
So for ever. Each and all
Songs of passion or of mirth
That are not heart-pure shall fall
As a sky-lark’s—to the earth;
But the soul’s song has no bounds—
Like the voice of Israfel,
From the heaven of heavens it sounds
To the very hell of hell.
poem by Victor James Daley
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A Star Speaks
In this universe so vast and wide
why do we humans run and hide
from the fact that there just might be
other beings different than we?
So many stars up in the skies
shining down like so many eyes
look right down and say to you
'There are others out there
that are in my view.'
Do not fear the multitudes of others
that just like you have sisters and brothers.
The day will arrive when all will say
if only you weren't so far away
you could teach us how to live with love
and how not to kill a soul.
We have never learned that here on earth
and still we play that role.
As a star that's shining in the night
I see all that's not in your sight.
I've watched and learned for eons of years
that the humans on earth cry too many tears.
And as I burn up and exist no more
my light still shines on each distant shore.
I wait for all to find each other
and revel in the differences in one another.
And when my light is gone and dies
I'll remember the song of children'; s eyes.
'Twinkle, twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are? '
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Of A Virgin Born
Have you seen the
Star of wonder
Star of grace
Star by which
The stars themselves
All navigate?
Have you sensed the
Star behind all sight
Reaching out
Through all the senses
Calling you in
Silent song?
Is this the
Star that brought me here
The light behind my eyes
The store of shining words
Before the living thoughts
Are spoken?
Have you seen the
Star of wonder
Star of grace
Star that lights
The life behind
Each face?
poem by Steven Silent Wolf
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Eyes Of The World
Right outside this lazy summer home
You aint got time to call your soul a critic no.
Right outside the lazy gate of winters summer home,
Wondrin where the nut-thatch winters,
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
There comes a redeemer, and he slowly too fades away,
And there follows his wagon behind him thats loaded with clay.
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom, and decay,
And night comes so quiet, its close on the heels of the day.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
Sometimes we live no particular way but our own,
And sometimes we visit your country and live in your home,
Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone,
Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own.
Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world,
The heart has its beaches, its homeland and thoughts of its own.
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the mornin brings,
But the heart has its seasons, its evenins and songs of its own.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Star
I HAD a star to sing by, a beautiful star that led,
But when I sang of its splendour the world in its wisdom said:
'Sweet are your songs, yet the singer sings but in madness when
He hymns but stars unbeholden of us his fellows of men;
Glow-worms we see and marshlights; sing us sweet songs of those
For the guerdons we have to give you, laurel and gold and rose;
Or if you must sing of stars, unseen of your brother man,
Go, starve with your eyes on your vision; your star may save if it can!'
So I said, 'If I starve and die I never again shall see
The glory, the high white radiance that hallows the world for me;
I will sing their songs, if it must be, and when I have golden store,
I will turn from the marsh and the glow-worms, and sing of my star once more.'
So I walked in the warm wet by-ways, not daring to lift my eyes
Lest love should drive me to singing my star supreme in the skies,
And the world cried out, 'We will crown him, he sings of the lights that are,
Glories of marshlight and glow-worms, not visions vain of a star!'
I said, 'Now my brows are laurelled, my hands filled full of their gold,
I will sing the starry songs that these earthworms bade withhold.
It is time to sing of my star!' for I dreamed that my star still shone,
Then I lifted my eyes in my triumph. Night! night! and my star was gone.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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God Is The Light
God is the Light
How great the wonders of the heavens
And the timeless beauty of the night
How great then how great the Creator?
And its stars like priceless jewels
Far beyond the reach of kings
Bow down for the shepherd guiding him home.
But how many eyes are closed
To the wonder of this night?
Like pearls, hidden, deep beneath a dark
Stream of desires.
But like dreams vanish with the call to prayer
And the dawn extinguishes night here too are signs.
God is the Light - God is the Light
How great the beauty of the Earth and the creatures
Who dwell on her.
How great then how great the Creator?
As it's mountains pierce the clouds
High about the lives of men
Weeping rivers for thousands of years.
But how many hearts are closed
To the wonders of this sight?
Like birds on a cage, asleep with closed wings
But as work stops with the call to prayer
And the birds recite here too are signs
God is the Light God is the Light
How great the works of man and the things he makes
How great then how great the Creator?
Though he strives to reach the heavens
He can barely survive
The wars of the world he lives in.
Yet, how many times he's tried,
Himself to immortalise?
Like his parents before him in the Garden of Eden
But like the sun sets with the call to prayer
And surrenders to the night here too are signs
God is the Light Everlasting
God is the Light Everlasting
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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