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Did You Ever Really Live?
It’s not how much you get
Nor how much you give.
A more important question begs an answer:
During all your endeavors, did you ever really live?
Working hard for wealth,
Recognition, or simply trying to be,
You paid a heavy price in time, stress, and aging
Because nothing comes for free.
We all work and struggle for our children,
Hoping they’ll accomplish more than we.
We want them to have a better life than us,
Yet nothing is for free.
Life teaches hard lessons.
Can knock you to your knees.
Never giving in but getting up
Is but one of a successful life’s keys.
We were put here for a purpose.
Many may not understand.
To do our best during our test,
Maybe lend a helping hand.
Some are doctors, lawyers, brokers,
Paupers or kings wearing a crown.
Others were musicians, writers,
Or poets of renown.
It was given to you freely.
It’s therefore yours to decide,
But one last thought I’ll venture
If you will abide.
You’ve worked so hard for others,
Please don’t die with your music still inside.
The Sound of Silence
Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I Am God.”
Do you know what silence sounds like?
Did you know that music is a series of sounds separated by silence?
In this busy world, it is almost impossible to hear the sound of silence.
However, I treasure it above all else.
Imagine a magical, serene time totally void of any sound on your ears.
One’s mind completely relaxes, and one can visualize waves breaking on a distant, sandy shore – without sound.
From deep within our mind, a new, pure thought emerges in this blessed silence.
It would have never arrived in its present form because of the noise, clutter, give and take of everyday life. Instead, it would have arrived all covered in bandages from injuries caused by the extraneous, outside world. It would be confused, lacking clarity, and without peace.
The idea is to intentionally become more aware of the Sound of Silence.
God bless your journey!
Silent Tribute
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Shrouded mist,
Bagpipe dirge,
Mournful notes
Oe’r heath and verge.
Spirit departs,
Yet not alone,
Presence felt
Although it’s gone.
Last note falls
Like a gentle kiss,
Wafting through
Thickened mist.
Note wears thin,
No longer heard.
Break not this silence
With spoken word.
Dreamwalk
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Softly, I’m borne away on quiet, muffled wings
Of a beautiful butterfly which only I am privileged to see.
Gorgeous multicolored wings gracefully lift me like a feather,
Bringing my spirit to that very special sanctuary
Which is filled with rainbows, solitude and, of course, dreams.
Here in this special place,
My imagination paints only with soft colors.
Each tree, shrub, vine or plant produces fruits
And flowers in the seasons of my dreams.
Birds of every species and color grace tree and shrub.
They dart here and there, affording hours of pleasure to the eye.
The soft, sweet music of their song carried on the fragrant air
Brings solace to the inner soul.
The heart is light, dancing from sheer exuberance!
Here in my special place, fish bite when fished for,
And grain or fruit grows in abundance when seeds are planted.
Rushing or hurry are strictly forbidden,
And time stands still on command.
Dreams occur in Technicolor, and fantasies are commonplace.
My unfettered imagination is in complete control,
Able to travel into open and distant space instantly.
In my mind, I can visit any continent, country, city or place
At a snap of my fingers.
Here, any desire can achieve satisfaction
As soon as it’s realized and identified,
Without worry, pain or regret.
Should none of my earthly desires satisfy,
Then my inner spirit can be nourished
Through simple, quiet, relaxing thought patterns.
Peaceful, serenity reigns in assurance that all is well
And under complete control of my consciousness.
Controlled Strings
This thought comes from Autumn Leaves:
Life, like a marionette,
One breath, one step, one day at a time,
Dancing to monotonous music, but—
Who controls the lines?
wfosterwelborn 