Tag: <span>Poetry</span>

Now

Now is the time.

Now is the time to know,

that everything you do is sacred.

Why,

Oh,  Why,

do you throw stones at your heart?

Now,

why not consider a lasting truce with yourself?

Now is the time

to understand that all your ideas of right and wrong were just a child’s training wheels to be laid aside.

When you can live with veracity & love…

This is the time for you to consider the impossibility that there is anything in the world but Grace.

Now is the season to know,

that everything you do is sacred.

 

There’s a wonderful article on Hafiz at www.poetseers.com.  Ralph Waldo Emerson once said that Hafiz, “is a poet for poets”.  Spiritual mysticism speaks across geography, cultures, and time periods.  There is wisdom here if you have the eyes to see.  Namaste.

ecstatic poetry

And an astronomer said, “Master, What of time?”
And he answered:
“You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life’s timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today’s memory and tomorrow is today’s dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to Love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very Love, though boundless encompassed within the center of his being and moving not from Love thought to Love thought, nor from Love deeds to other Love deeds?
And is not time even as Love is, undivided and spaceLess?
But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons. Let each season encircle all the other seasons.
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with Longing.

Kahil Gibran

#salonforastrologicaldiscourse    Oct 7 @ 7pm  Contact Ida

Ancient Wisdom Astrology Poetry

the tortoise

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice–

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do–

determined to save

the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver

Pulitzer Prize for poetry

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