The photo above is of a sweet man called David. He's dead now.
We arrive in this life with nothing and we leave with nothing. And we spend a
lot of time worrying and chasing after things in between.
The caveat about religion on the other page applies especially to this poem.
But this is a haunting poem.
Love
Bade Me Welcome
Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew
back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow
slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly
questioning,
If I lack'd any thing.
A guest, I answer'd, worthy to be
here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did
reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them:
let my shame
Go where it doth deserve
And know you not, says Love, who bore
the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and
taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
George Herbert
1593-1633
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; Alfred Tennyson
1809-1892
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Not many visitors will get to this spot at the bottom of the fourth page I suspect. Time for some book recommendations: you might like, if you're a religious person without a religion,The Master Game by Robert S. De Ropp, George Allen and Unwin 1969. Or, if you're interested in Buddhism, A Path With Heart by Jack Kornfield, Bantam Books, 1994. More books when I think of really good ones. Finally, below, a poem by the Persian poet, Rumi. Bi for now :)
This being human is a guest house.
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs;
the deep moans round with many voices.
Come, my friends.
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,-
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
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CLASSIC POETRY
AND MY PHOTOS Page1
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still treat each guest honourably,
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing.
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Jalal al-Din Rumi
1207 - 1273
