A clap of thunder a flash of lightening at the tail end of December although nothing of rain's discerned yet two further rumbles of thunder suddenly threaten the L.A. morning and now it comes the pitter-patter growing into a fleeting deluge a short symphony of winter rain
Like a blank slate rests all the world though I see it not so while I've got scant liking for cold yet I'm longing for snow might this winter differ from other winters before it? if the heart's slate's fleetingly blank is there nothing to know?
once again the fragrance of love is picked up by the soul if anon the heart enjoys inklings has mind yet a role? does love's chitchat burble like water? or fizz like champagne? pain & pleasure dart here & yon like a deer in the knoll
where the canvas beckons the brush is there something to do? where the silence flirts with the flute is the melody new? golden harp strings sound in the deep might the bhajan unfold? where pure beauty glints in the eye are there stories a'brew?
December rain descends like olden days soon orphaned in this world is every man time passes dream-like in a clockwork haze till altered proves the hue of every plan what was our aim? is love within our span or out of reach? truth's veiled from our gaze we but achieve what trivial thing we can December rain descends like olden days
December rain in depth of night arrives back in Los Angeles sits one lone chap who fits the shoe? who tinkers in our lives? who manifests like water from the tap? within the heart remains enigma's gap! what art without real striving ever thrives? yet falling into mercy's ample lap December rain in depth of night arrives December rain! come pluck the harp & sing or with the reed chart Rumi's tale once more the soul (Kabir said) hurtling on its swing describes an arc from birth to death what shore would smile beyond Samsara's inkly lore? how might one rightly view the simplest thing? let mercy flood the room ceiling to floor! December rain! come pluck the harp & sing
Hard times require furious dancing deep thoughts inspire gossamer words high stakes invite hazardous chancing
broad trees invoke boisterous birds long roads suggest ludicrous strife
dim rooms support amorous glancing tombstones disguise infinite life
hard times require furious dancing =====================
This poem’s first & final line are borrowed from an eponymous volume of poetry by Alice Walker – though I wasn’t aware of this specific origin (instead supposing the line to be anonymous) when reading the line (with illustration) late at night in a friend’s Facebook status update, and feeling it to merit a riff comprised of parallel sentences, I dashed off the above amusement. (As an afterthought I googled the line, and can accordingly cite the said reference.)
Ring the gongs & sound the grave shehnais Raviji has exited this realm let a mist of tears becloud your eyes wide he was & deep & bright & wise surf-rider on music's mystic whelm ring the gongs & sound the grave shehnais every plucked sound resonates then dies oceanic silence gnanis helm though a mist of tears becloud the eyes what's the world? sheer fact? or thick surmise? truth eludes till mind achieves deep calm ring the gongs & sound the grave shehnais market day! one sells another buys! all's recorded on a secret film even mists of tears that cloud the eyes gifts remain when givers break life's ties thanks resounds & love's indeed pure balm ring the gongs & sound the grave shehnais let a mist of tears becloud your eyes
quote: Is it possible to keep biblical teachings and papal encyclicals to 140 characters?
Pope Benedict XVI hopes so. The holy one will begin tweeting Dec. 12 in six different languages from his @pontifax account in a Q&A format.
The pope will tweet "as often as he wants," according to a Vatican official, and "pontifax" was chosen as his handle because it means "pope" and also "bridge-builder" in Latin. The Vatican hopes its elevated social-media push will help spread the Catholic faith, especially among young people.
Alas, those curious about papal breakfast habits and sport-team preferences will be disappointed: The account will focus exclusively on spiritual matters. unquote
Yes everything is in-sourced all comes from the unseen! whatever is has been sourced through sorcery most keen! whatever seems emerges by whimsy call it whim-sourced both revelries & dirges? yes everything is in-sourced