What is Love?


Love is the scent with the lotus born.

It is the silent choirs of petals

Singing the winter’s harmony of uniform beauty.

Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.

It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets -

sun and moon lit

In the skyey hall festooned with fleecy clouds –

Around the sovereign Silent Will.

It is the thirst of the rose to drink the sunrays

And blush red with life.

‘Tis the promptings of the mother earth

To feed her milk to the tender, thirsty roots,

And to nurse all life.

It is the urge of the sun

To keep all things alive.



Love is the unseen craving of the Mother Divine

That took the protecting father–form,

And that feeds helpless mouths

With milk of mother’s tenderness.

It is the babies’ sweetness,

Coaxing the rain of parental sympathy

To shower upon them.

It is the lover’s unenslaved surrender to the beloved

To serve and solace.

It is the elixir of friendship,

Reviving broken and bruised souls.

It is the martyr’s zeal to shed his blood

For the well-beloved fatherland.

It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another
heart.

It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches

For every creature’s groans.



Love is to enjoy the family rose of petal-beings,

And thence to move to spacious fields -

Passing by portals of social, national, international
sympathy,

On to the limitless Cosmic Home –

To gaze with looks of wonderment,

And to serve all that lives, still or moving.

This is to know what love is.

He knows who lives it.



Love is evolution’s ameliorative call

To the far-strayed sons

To return to Perfection’s home.

It is the call of the beauty – robed ones

To worship the great Beauty.

It is the call of God

Through silent intelligences

And starburst of feelings.



Love is the Heaven

Toward which the flowers, rivers, nations, atoms,
creatures – you and I

Are rushing by the straight path of action right,

Or winding laboriously on error’s path,

All to reach haven there at last.






From: Songs of the Soul, by Paramahansa Yogananda.

Good poem.

"It is the ineffable, silent call of the heart to another
heart.

It is the God-drunk poet’s heartaches

For every creature’s groans."


Has been like that for a long time.

D

BlueDove Your thoughts are as you are,
BEAUTIFUL!

Love
Soloc

ahh, nice.

thank you prox and soloc
Will you gather with me around this
Roaring Mystic BonFire
as ashes twirl their flickery vapory cartwhirls
up to the Stars?

~*~hypnotic~*~


Poet Seers http://www.poetseers.org/


I really liked this one too~


Samadhi



Vanished are the veils of light and shade,

Lifted the vapors of sorrow,

Sailed away the dawn of fleeting joy,

Gone the mirage of the senses.

Love, hate, health, disease, life and death –

Departed, these false shadows on the screen
of duality.

Waves of laughter, scyllas of sarcasm, whirlpools
of melancholy,

Melting in the vast sea of bliss.

Bestilled is the storm of maya

By the magic wand of intuition deep.

The universe, a forgotten dream, lurks
subconsciously,

Ready to invade my newly wakened memory divine.

I exist without the cosmic shadow,

But it could not live bereft of me;

As the sea exists without the waves,

But they breathe not without the sea.

Dreams, wakings, states of deep turiya sleep,

Present, past, future, no more for me,

But the ever-present, all-flowing, I, I everywhere.

Consciously enjoyable,

Beyond the imagination of all expectancy,

Is this, my samadhi state.

Planets, stars, stardust, earth,

Volcanic bursts of doomsday cataclysms,

Creation’s moulding furnace,

Glaciers of silent X-rays,

Burning floods of electrons,

Thoughts of all men, past, present, future,

Every blade of grass, myself and all,

Each particle of creation’s dust,

Anger, greed, good, bad, salvation, lust,

I swallowed up – transmuted them

Into one vast ocean of blood of my own one Being!

Smoldering joy, oft-puffed by unceasing meditation,

Which blinded my tearful eyes,

Burst into eternal flames of bliss,

And consumed my tears, my peace, my frame,
my all.

Thou art I, I am Thou,

Knowing, Knower, Known, as One!

One tranquilled, unbroken thrill of eternal, living, ever-new peace!



Not an unconscious state
Or mental chloroform without wilful return,

Samadhi but extends my realm of consciousness

Beyond the limits of my mortal frame

To the boundaries of eternity,

Where I, the Cosmic Sea,

Watch the little ego floating in Me.

Not a sparrow, nor a grain of sand, falls

without my sight

All space floats like an iceberg in my mental sea.

I am the Colossal Container of all things made!

By deeper, longer, continuous, thirsty,
guru – given meditation,

This celestial samadhi is attained.

All the mobile murmurs of atoms are heard;

The dark earth, mountains, seas are molten liquid!

This flowing sea changes into vapors of nebulae!

Aum blows o’er the vapors; they open their veils,

Revealing a sea of shining electrons,

Till, at the last sound of the cosmic drum,

Grosser light vanishes into eternal rays

Of all-pervading Cosmic Joy.

From Joy we come,

For Joy we live,

In the sacred Joy we melt.

I, the ocean of mind, drink all creation’s waves.

The four veils of solid, liquid, vapor, light,

Lift aright.

Myself, in everything,

Enters the Great Myself.

Gone forever,

The fitful, flickering shadows of a mortal memory.

Spotless is my mental sky,

Below, ahead, and high above.

Eternity and I, one united ray.

I, a tiny bubble of laughter,

Have become the Sea of Mirth Itself.


~ Paramahansa Yogananda

Beauty XXV



But the restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains,

And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions."

At night the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east."

And at noontide the toilers and the wayfarers say, "we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset."

In winter say the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills."

And in the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."

All these things have you said of beauty.

Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,

And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,

But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,

But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.

It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,

But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.

But you are life and you are the veil.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.

But you are eternity and you are the mirror.



~Khalil Gibran

From The Prophet

All Ways a Hook to draw Us in from afar, Lisa.

Very poignant and uplfting Words that celebrate the mere Existence of Us All. To ponder, in the Quiet moments in between, the reason We are hear,....to In Joy the Love and Beauty Life allows us to Witness.
The Simple Fact that, amongst the daily regimen of survival, we can and do ask Why? and appreciate all the answers that boggle our small infantile Minds.

But Beauty! Ah yes, the Anticipated Awakening. The Hopefull Heart that awaits the knock on the Door. The Sound of footsteps down the Path,....the glistening of Dew and Smell of Spring. The early morning Rays of the Golden Orb that warms our hands and face....the unseen actions of the Samaritan's Deeds....the Blessed Wishes of small Children; eyes cast Skyward in amazement of vast Eternity.The pangs of Pain at loss and grief...the anxious times of uncertain emotions...

Beauty is a Gift of appreciation at the subtlties of One's Life. A Glimpse of the Divine in one's trudging foward. The Veil and the Mirror! I love that.

"When all under HEaven know beuaty as beauty,
already there is ugliness;
When everyone knows goodness,
this accounts for badness.

Being and nonbeing give birth to each other,
Difficult and easy complete each other,
Long and short form each other,
High and Low fulfill each other,
Tone and voice harmonize each other,
Front and back follow each other-
it is ever thus.

For these reasons,
The sage
dwells in affairs of nonaction,
carries out a doctrine without Words.
He lets the myriad creatures rise up,
but does not instigate them;
He acts
but does not presume;
He completes his work
but does not dwell on it.

Now,
Simply because he does not dwell on them,
his accomplishments never leave him."

Lao Tsu/The Tao Te Ching



Chahlie

Quote:

---

Beauty is a Gift of appreciation at the subtlties of One's Life. A Glimpse of the Divine in one's trudging foward.

---

Chahlie, you get it. That is beautiful...something to carry and remember.

Yes, "in the trudging forward". That's what drew me to that poem. A Beauty that is here and now...not "yet-to-be". Why so often does beauty need to become something more than it's first innocent genuine blushing guesture? Why must we take something so Pure in its form and try to shape-shift it further with our Desire...into a plan, a promise, a vow? Man's impulse always to lock it behind bars, to shrine it, to embalm it, to mold it, to fence it in, manicured into something we perceive as ever more Beautiful?
As well, there is a Quiet Beauty that resides so modestly in the shadows of our trudgings. Only hoping, we are patient...only hoping for our Faith in the Unseen that would bring its Gift to our Awareness.

Lao Tsu
I love that translation....like the message, it is most comprehensive in its barest nature.
Chahles...how do you know?
That was perfect; so timely.


Tao Te Ching Verse 81


True words aren't eloquent;
eloquent words aren't true.
Wise men don't need to prove their point;
men who need to prove their point aren't wise.

The Master has no possessions.
The more he does for others,
the happier he is.
The more he gives to others,
the wealthier he is.

The Tao nourishes by not forcing.
By not dominating, the Master leads.

Good Morning Sunshine.


Ah, Lao Tsu.
Where is he when You need him?
Such nourishment for thotht
in this fast food
Real Time
Marathon Whirled we live in.
This Human Race.
To get to The End.
Stopping to buy the Roses
at $49.00 a dozen.

Possessing a small patch of Earth
locked up Safe in my humble Castle abode.

But what joy they bring
sitting ever so Still on my Window Sill.
Gradually opening
with the onsought of Spring.
reMinding me to BEcome.
And give back to Earth
All the things I have taken from Her.
If "All property is theft"
then let me Be the
repentant Burgular.

Let me Give enough
to BE fulfilled...

Then the Rich Man asked....
Speak to us of Giving.
And he answered....
"You give but little when you give of your possessions.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard
for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And to-morrow, what shall to-morrow bring
to the over-prudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the Pilgrims to the holy city?

And what is fear of need but need itself?

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full,
the thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have
and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.

And there are those who have little and give all.
These are the believers in Life
and the bounty of Life,
and their coffer
is
never
empty."

Kahlil Gibran

Here is to Bounty.
Where Nothing resides.




Chahlie

repentant burgular

hmmm...

we have little choice do we?
Birthed into the system,
it's a feeling we can all share.





to Boundless Bounty

~the everything that replenishes from Giving





More Beauty from Kahlil
thank You, Chahles

Sunday Morning Stirrings hear.
Early enough to see Life sit Still.

Thank You Blue Dove for this Thread. It serves as a homily for the profaned Wandering Agnostic who sits in his own pulp It making sense of otherwise baffling rhetoric....

Beautiful~~

"Beautiful faces are they that wear
The Light of a pleasant Spirit there;
Beautiful hands are they that do
Deeds that are noble, good and true;
Beautiful feet are they that go
Swiftly to lighten another's woe."

Short on poetry and long on thotht, Socrates gives us a nugget of daily Beauty, where it is said he believed that , "beauty is a thing that slips in and permeates our Soul". Beauty, not just being a quaity of appreciation, but compassion in action,,,,a daily chore of self-fullfillment. Daily Bread I reckon they call it.
A gift like Crokus in the onset of Spring!


Chahlie

Beauty is a thing which slips in
and permeates our Soul





Song Of the Mystic - God


And upon the stillness of a cloud-filled
afternoon, the child asked of the Mystic:

"Where is God, the Creator, and how
will I endeavor to find the sacredness of
His Being?"

And the Mystic answered:

Once upon a thousand years ago did a
man seek the answer to your very question.
He searched the mountains for the One
called God;
But he only saw the green and yellow
blanket of distant aspen trees.
He walked along the ocean shore, to
know the Creator of Life;
But all he heard was the rhythmic roar
of the tide's own song.
He rode across the prairie, looking to
find God at his journey's end;
But all that came to him was the sweet
fragrance of the wild flower's bloom.
He reached out for the sky, pleading for
a sign of His Presence;
But he only felt the vastness and timelessness
of the starlit night.
Oh foolish man that he was, to search for
God with the eyes of his mind;
When He was forever with him, when seen
through the eyes of his soul.



Excerpts from “The Prophet’s Candle” by Daniel

Mirage




The hope I dreamed
of was a dream
Was but a dream;
and now I wake,
Exceedingly comfortless,
and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.

I hang my harp
upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silent harp there,
wrung and snapped
For a dream's sake.

Lie still, Lie still
my breaking heart;
My silent heart,
lie still and break:
Life, and the world
and mine own self
are changed
For a dream's sake.


~Christina Rossetti

wow! been 'feeling' down lately, and havn't visited for a few weeks, visited before and came across these Posts... it just filled my heart with Love, Thankyou Susan

#9 Dream
John Lennon



So long ago
Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?
I know, yes I know
Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me

Took a walk down the street
Thru the heat whispered trees
I thought I could hear (hear, hear, hear)
Somebody call out my name as it started to rain

Two spirits dancing so strange

Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé

Dream, dream away
Magic in the air, was magic in the air?
I believe, yes I believe
More I cannot say, what more can I say?

On a river of sound
Thru the mirror go round, round
I thought I could feel (feel, feel, feel)
Music touching my soul, something warm, sudden cold
The spirit dance was unfolding

Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé

Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé
Ah! böwakawa poussé, poussé



Chahlie

Woke Upward my Self this morning with this playing and couldn't resist One More.....


Mind Games
John Lennon

We're playing those mind games together
Pushing the barriers, planting seeds
Playing the mind guerrilla
Chanting the mantra, peace on earth
We all been playing those mind games forever
Some kinda druid dudes lifting the veil
Doing the mind guerrilla
Some call it magic, the search for the grail

Love is the answer and you know that for sure
Love is a flower, you got to let it, you got to let it grow

So keep on playing those mind games together
Faith in the future, outta the now
You just can't beat on those mind guerrillas
Absolute elsewhere in the stones of your mind
Yeah we're playing those mind games forever
Projecting our images in space and in time

Yes is the answer and you know that for sure
Yes is surrender, you got to let it, you got to let it go

So keep on playing those mind games together
Doing the ritual dance in the sun
Millions of mind guerrillas
Putting their soul power to the karmic wheel
Keep on playing those mind games forever
Raising the spirit of peace and love




Chahlie

A chance to feel the breeze on my face, see the waves hit the shore. To sit in the rain, listening to the pitapat of fat warm raindrops on the sidewalk around me. The smell of her hair and the glint in her eyes, if only for a fleeting moment, for one fleeting lifetime. The look of disappointment on my son's face, followed by profound joy having been tricked by his rascally ol' pa. The warmth of the sun on my face in the morning, of her arm around my waist at night. The feel of her skin under my hand and the cold sheets on my feet. The sounds of crickets chirping at night, a cool drink of night air. Crisp, clean, exhilarating as it melts in my mouth.

These and all of the many things that I cannot show my neighbors, can't buy with my fat paycheck, can't drive to work, can't experience in the theaters in Amazing Dolby THX Sound. These are the building blocks of gratitude; the source of this inexhaustible sense of wonder that has left me dumbstruck and humbled. These are the little comforts; the irreplaceable luxuries in which necessity finds its reason for being. These are the stepping stones to look for. These are the reasons for existing.

Everything else...is just gravy.

Life is Truly Witness...


When One

Perceives every Thing

Can One

Appreciate No Thing



It takes Time
It takes effort
It Is worth It
and everything else
seems
Silly
in comparison.


Life is hear and kNow.

Participate.

Be come a Part.

Together we Will Become One.




Chahlie

I dub thee Chahles the Wonderlove.

You may rise.

Aw,shucks, You Two ...(looks down, kicks pebble)....thanks for da kind Words and warm Well comes.

Never been dubbed before, duped yes, but never dubbed.
See if I can rise to the occassion...
and fit into my Wonder Love Super Hero costume....

Sheesh, barely fits...long Winter it seams.
My MASK all ways fits though. Love this thing!

Lemme see hear....

Poems of Spring...Hope...reTurning.....

there are so many.

Uno Momento por favore.

Off to save an Other Vile Metal Tree...


More to come after MoonRise.







Chahlie

Me thinks we need a Knock Turn All Pict..
Purhaps a Crescent Moon of some sort.

To emo the Mood at Bay....


A sort of devilish Feeling
The Night

A Gift of Solemnity
that governs
Know One.

An Allowance
of Peace
that rests
the stirring Souls

While awakened is the MindFull Madmen
that wander
the Halls
of Wonder

A Brief Solace
before Time Dawns
and the Song reMains the same
The Mantra
of many

Hope aspires Deep
with In
the hopeless...

the very Air
that beComes; Breathes.

It has to Be this Way
with
Life.

For there is No Other
Choice.

We are hear
and must
Listen.

Do Hu understand what I mean Man?

This Time
Is
Our Own.

Make with It thou Wilt.




Just reMember to share the Experience.

And like de JaVu....

It will reMember Hu.

&peace

Chahles

Thank you for spreading the Love, Dove. I love Paramahansa Yogananda.
And I love that website. It's a gem on the web, isnt it?

Chahles, that was awesome!

Well Halo Aummingbird
It is my sureful Plea to meet You.

Well Come to the Sight and thank You for the read.
IT is all ways good to Be in Good company.

Stick around a while and share with Us Your's Elf.


Chahles

"the Very air
that beComes, Breathes"

mmm.

from Night Songs
to Day Breaks...
and back again.
The feeling
of Open Land Freedom.
Infinite possibility
is a quiet, steady
presence in each Breath.


The flowers of late
winter
and early spring
occupy places in our hearts
well out of proportion
to their size.

~ Gertrude S. Wister


Beautiful, Chahles.

Aummingbird,
I've spent so many quiet moments
reading through there.
It is a wonderful Site.
Everytime I walk away
with something.

Fallin asleep
whilst Waking
Your Dreams are in the making.


Waking only in the morning
is a small subtle warning...

Those in between slowments
that miss Your stare
those hurried little
seconds
When You don't care.
The wanting to be outta here
or somewhere far away
the wishing that the Ride would stop
and the Path would lead the Way...
The Wishes and Want to's
The want to and the have to's
The Shoulda Woulda Couldas
The Wish I did
and wish I didn't do's...

Falling asleep whilest Waking
Your Dreams are in the making.

Every Slowment counts.

Breathe by breathe.

Breathe Deep.


Sigh.



Chahlie

Crazy times like these are all I live for
These gray sky, blue heaven days
That roll by on clouds
In many ways
On stormy days; lazy ones too
Fast and slow through far too few
Still a heart attuned
(If not completely out of tune)
Can't help but feel the harmonics
In the room outside the rooms
And get washed over then
Embraced
Then tidied up by zen
A sun-drenched neck or tousled hair
Reminders of these days spent where
(And when)
The air and sky upon their own,
The very spaces that we roam,
Release of fearful expectations,
And half-hearted hesitation,
On these crazy, breezy days and
Their less animated babies
Crash and tumbled through my life
And took me home.

Such days I live for..though.

daf

P.S. Aummingbird, Chali, Dove.. You guys are amazing. We should have an online open mike.

Chahles ! Thank you for the warm welcome!

Sorry so late in getting back here. I'm glad i found the string again.

Yes, it's great to be in Great company. I hope to be spending more time here...

Peace
,
A

BlueDove,

Same here girl.

Lots of Love,

Beautiful daf.

And yes, that would be fun! Hopefully soon. hehe.

{{{ }}}

The New Year is Up On Us

Can You Feel the Breath of Spring?

It is gentle.
And Fierce.

A Bit o De Bite.

The Veil between the Seasons...
Where things seam different
Both Day and Night
They seam the same.
But oh the Difference!




Oh the Wondrous Touch of It

And You Begin A Gain!

SpringTime is for Poets, Lovers and Gardners.

Happy Spring & Ostara EveryOne!

Day has finally caught up with night once again and for today the two are in perfect balance. The time has finally come for we above the Equator to awaken from our winter hibernation and prepare to plant the seeds of our hopes and dreams. May they all bloom to their fullest potential.


Tracey

On Good and Evil

by Kahlil Gibran



Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters.


You are good when you are one with yourself.
Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.
For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.
And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom.


You are good when you strive to give of yourself.
Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.
For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast.
Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance."
For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.


You are good when you are fully awake in your speech,
Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.
And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.


You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.
Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.
Even those who limp go not backward. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.


You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good,
You are only loitering and sluggard.
Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.


In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you.
But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.
And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.
But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?"
For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless, "What has befallen your house?"

On Joy and Sorrow

Kahlil Gibran


Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

In response to your " Life Is a Flame "


Brighid

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6F_gV8QnP10


Thanks

Lisa Thiel ~ Song To Brighid

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI3koxpmlyM

such beautiful music, Star.
thank you.








The Winding Stair


My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
'Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul

My Self. The consecretes blade upon my knees
Is Sato's ancient blade, still as it was,
Still razor-keen, still like a looking-glass
Unspotted by the centuries;
That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn
From some court-lady's dress and round
The wodden scabbard bound and wound
Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn

My Soul. Why should the imagination of a man
Long past his prime remember things that are
Emblematical of love and war?
Think of ancestral night that can,
If but imagination scorn the earth
And intellect is wandering
To this and that and t'other thing,
Deliver from the crime of death and birth.

My Self. Montashigi, third of his family, fashioned it
Five hundred years ago, about it lie
Flowers from I know not what embroidery -
Heart's purple - and all these I set
For emblems of the day against the tower
Emblematical of the night,
And claim as by a soldier's right
A charter to commit the crime once more.

My Soul. Such fullness in that quarter overflows
And falls into the basin of the mind
That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind,
For intellect no longer knows
Is from the Ought, or knower from the Known -
That is to say, ascends to Heaven;
Only the dead can be forgiven;
But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.

II


My Self. A living man is blind and drinks his drop.
What matter if the ditches are impure?
What matter if I live it all once more?
Endure that toil of growing up;
The ignominy of boyhood; the distress
Of boyhood changing into man;
The unfinished man and his pain
Brought face to face with his own clumsiness;

The finished man among his enemies? -
How in the name of Heaven can he escape
That defiling and disfigured shape
The mirror of malicious eyes
Casts upon his eyes until at last
He thinks that shape must be his shape?
And what's the good of an escape
If honour find him in the wintry blast?

I am content to live it all again
And yet again, if it be life to pitch
Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch,
A blind man battering blind men;
Or into that most fecund ditch of all,
The folly that man does
Or must suffer, if he woos
A proud woman not kindred of his soul.

I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest.


~ W.B. Yeats