Sheenah

ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times,
in life after life, in age after age forever.
My spell-bound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs
that you take as your gift, wear round your neck in your many forms
in life after life, in age after age forever…

~ Rabindranath Tagore

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The beauty that emerges from woundedness is a beauty infused
with feeling; a beauty different from the beauty of landscape
and the cold perfect form.
This is a beauty that has suffered its way through the ache
of desolation until the words or music emerged to equal the hunger
and desperation at its heart.
It must also be said that not all woundedness succeeds in finding
its way through to beauty of form.
Most woundedness remains hidden, lost inside forgotten silence.
Indeed, in every life there is some wound that continues to
weep secretly, even after years of attempted healing.
Where woundedness can be refined into beauty
a wonderful transfiguration takes place.

~ John O'Donohue

ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ இڿڰ ʚϊɞ

Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

December 7, 2012

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ღ My life is not this steeply sloping hour ღ

My life is not this steeply sloping hour,
in which you see me hurrying.
Much stands behind me; I stand before it like a tree;
I am only one of my many mouths,
and at that, the one that will be still the soonest.

I am the rest between two notes,
which are somehow always in discord
because Death’s note wants to climb over—
but in the dark interval, reconciled,
they stay there trembling.
…….And the song goes on, beautiful.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ღ

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

October 7, 2012

For the Sake of Strangers… ♥ڿڰۣಌ

No matter what the grief, its weight,
we are obliged to carry it.
We rise and gather momentum, the dull strength
that pushes us through crowds.
And then the young boy gives me directions
so avidly. A woman holds the glass door open,
waiting patiently for my empty body to pass through.
All day it continues, each kindness
reaching toward another—a stranger
singing to no one as I pass on the path, trees
offering their blossoms, a child
who lifts his almond eyes and smiles.
Somehow they always find me, seem even
to be waiting, determined to keep me
from myself, from the thing that calls to me
as it must have once called to them—
this temptation to step off the edge
and fall weightless, away from the world.

~ Dorianne Laux

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

September 19, 2012

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He took my heart and ran with it, and I hope he's running still,
fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his forever.

~ Patricia McConnell

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

September 15, 2012

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Grief ♥ڿڰۣಌ

I had my own notion of grief.
I thought it was the sad time
that followed the death of someone you love.
And you had to push through it
to get to the other side.
But I'm learning there is no other side.
There is no pushing through.
But rather,
there is absorption.
Adjustment.
Acceptance.
And grief is not something you complete,
but rather, you endure.
Grief is not a task to finish
and move on,
but an element of yourself-
An alteration of your being.
A new way of seeing.
A new definition of self.

Ⓒ Gwen Flowers

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

August 19, 2012

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დ♥ FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS ♥დ

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlour wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
\With those deep and gentle eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit’s voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

July 12, 2012

A Heterodoxy

I dreamed one night I came
Somehow to Heaven, and there
Transfigured shapes like flame
Moved effortless in air.

All silent were the Blest,
Calmly their haloes shone,
When through them all there pressed
One spirit whirling on.

He like a comet seemed,
But wild and glad and free,
And all through Heaven, I dreamed,
Rushed madly up to me.

Back from his haloed head
A flaming tail streamed far,
This way and that it sped
And waved from star to star.

And, as I saw it shot
Like searchlights through the sky,
I knew my dog had got
To Heaven as well as I.

By Lord Dunsany

Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

June 24, 2012

.….............................................................................................εїз

Invisible threads are the strongest ties.

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

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We clasp the hands of those that go before us,
And the hands of those who come after us.
We enter the little circle of each other's arms
And the larger circle of lovers,
Whose hands are joined in a dance,
And the larger circle of all creatures,
Passing in and out of life,
Who move also in a dance,
To a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it
Except in fragments …

~ Wendell Berry

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~♥x♥~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~♥x♥~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

June 16, 2012

☆

A Dream

In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed—
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream—that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night,
So trembled from afar—
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth’s day-star?

~ Edgar Allan Poe

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Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

May 17, 2012

~ I Cannot Lie By Your Fire ~

I've changed my ways a little;
I cannot now run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you'd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do on the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the nights through
I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read - and I fear often grieving for me -
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying.
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope that when you are lying
Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dears, that's too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided...
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

~ From the book of the same name written by Robinson Jeffers

Mel Xxxxx (GTS Friend)

May 1, 2012