I am what I am.
In having faith in the beauty within me, I develop trust.
In softness I have strength.
In silence I walk with the gods.
In peace I understand myself and the world.
In conflict I walk
I am free.
In respecting all living things, I respect myself.
In dedication I honor the courage within me.
In eternity I have compassion for the nature of all things.
In love I unconditionally accept the evolution of others.
I have power.
In my individuality, I express the God-Force within me.
In service I give of what I
I am what I am:
Eternal, immortal, universal, and infinite.
And so be it.
~ Stuart Wilde
There once was a skeleton
that dangled from the hanger
hung next to a blue dress
reputation of a fundamental
of secrets closeted
her stains could not sustain
the once unsullied
interlaced into her bosom
in darkness she nested
long term memory
until one day of
a prose was provoked
poetry hence projected
and all that was hidden
was summoned into sight
and as I write
doors open to the
dim is brought to bright
and diction brings forth light
such is life
of the dead
that lives through present
in search of
I woke up this morning to find a writing picture prompt in my front yard. Doesn’t this picture speak volumes of oxymorons?
Though I enjoyed the solitude of the winter, I am looking forward to coming out from behind my shadow, and sharing my recent experiences and new found insights. I planted many seeds last season, both positive and negative. I’m now eager to discover which thoughts I tended to the most, as they will be the first to blossom. Happy Spring Equinox!!
The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other. ~Arthur Rubenstein
- Rites of Spring (wordwenches.typepad.com)
- Ostara: The Spring Equinox (barnabyd.wordpress.com)
There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is.
~William P. Merrill
The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
Call it to your arms where it can
A silkworm eating leaves makes a cocoon.
Each of us weaves a chamber of leaves and sticks.
Silkworms begin to truly exist
as they disappear inside that room.
Without legs, we fly…..
When I stop speaking, this poem will close,
and open its silent wings . . .
- Are you a butterfly or a fly? (askjbheknows.wordpress.com)
- Butterfly And It’s Cocoon (driven.pkmenon.com)
- Happiness Is A Butterfly (roxcell.wordpress.com)
- Rumi Quote About Life (evatenter.wordpress.com)
- the time has come ~rumi (pathwriter.wordpress.com)
- Rumi and Roomy (catherinemjohnson.wordpress.com)