Existence is not life. Existence is not 'to be'. Existence is not something we could derive. By itself, Existence does not mean anything. Existence does not exist.

I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.


At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.


The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.


As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.


I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.


I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.


But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.

He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is
A pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.


He is a tree watered by the River of Beauty, bearing
Fruit which the hungry heart craves;
He is a nightingale, soothing the depressed
Spirit with his beautiful melodies;
He is a white cloud appearing over the horizon,
Ascending and growing until it fills the face of the sky.
Then it falls on the flows in the field of Life,
Opening their petals to admit the light.
He is an angel, send by the goddess to
Preach the Deity's gospel;
He is a brilliant lamp, unconquered by darkness
And inextinguishable by the wind. It is filled with
Oil by Istar of Love, and lighted by Apollon of Music.


He is a solitary figure, robed in simplicity and
Kindness; He sits upon the lap of Nature to draw his
Inspiration, and stays up in the silence of the night,
Awaiting the descending of the spirit.


He is a sower who sows the seeds of his heart in the
Prairies of affection, and humanity reaps the
Harvest for her nourishment.


This is the poet -- whom the people ignore in this life,
And who is recognized only when he bids the earthly
World farewell and returns to his arbor in heaven.


This is the poet -- who asks naught of
Humanity but a smile.
This is the poet -- whose spirit ascends and
Fills the firmament with beautiful sayings;
Yet the people deny themselves his radiance.


Until when shall the people remain asleep?
Until when shall they continue to glorify those
Who attain greatness by moments of advantage?
How long shall they ignore those who enable
Them to see the beauty of their spirit,
Symbol of peace and love?
Until when shall human beings honor the dead
And forget the living, who spend their lives
Encircled in misery, and who consume themselves
Like burning candles to illuminate the way
For the ignorant and lead them into the path of light?


Poet, you are the life of this life, and you have
Triumphed over the ages of despite their severity.


Poet, you will one day rule the hearts, and
Therefore, your kingdom has no ending.


Poet, examine your crown of thorns; you will
Find concealed in it a budding wreath of laurel.

And a woman who held a babe against her ***** said, "Speak to us of
Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.

I am so sorry, for not coming on here lately.
For you all have touch my heart your poems.
Your stories are filled with great encouragement.
I really do miss you, but I am hurting right now.
But soon hopefully , I shall be back on more.
You are all, really inspiring people to me my friends.
I been blessed by each and everyone of you  here.
Thank you all, for being who you are Special people.
I am so very thankful for each and everyone of you.
Bye for now I love each and everyone of you in Christ.

1086

What Twigs We held by—
Oh the View
When Life’s swift River striven through
We pause before a further plunge
To take Momentum—
As the Fringe

Upon a former Garment shows
The Garment cast,
Our Props disclose
So scant, so eminently small
Of Might to help, so pitiful
To sink, if We had labored, fond
The diligence were not more blind

How scant, by everlasting Light
The Discs that satisfied Our Sight—
How dimmer than a Saturn’s Bar
The Things esteemed, for Things that are!

"daddy, i'm so tired all the time.."
of course you are.. you barely eat...
"don't i?"
no you don't... you only just eat enough to survive
you eat less than your 5 year old sister.

"what?"
Yea...



- I don't know why... and i haven't thought about it.
I like my body trust me
But i don't want food
I am hungry, but i don't eat till the hunger has passed i only eat because i have to... if i didn't have to i wouldn't eat.
Eating bores me
Eating makes me feel nonproductive

I haven't thought about the fact that i eat less than my 5 year old sister... and i can't understand why daddy hasn't said anything before now..
And now i can't wait to get on the weight because  i wanna see if he's actually right, that i'm losing weight..
Trust me i'm not trying to... idk why i'm doing this...

Light awakens with shrieks of thunder
In the sky, a breathtaking wonder
Grief of rain, within clouds it reside
Half parts meet when heavens collide

Tremble in sky, It longs to fly

Never get close, it just wants to clash
It screams with its fascinating flash
Never afraid of fall, it takes a leap
G**round it's salvation, it was born to seek

And I know it is true - my soul is arriving
Wanting to take hold of this human frame
Shake loose those dark doubts in hiding
That grants the pain that comes with looming shame

Dare I ask - Is this me now taking control
Of the internal workings from being led astray?
Or maybe I am just giving in to the expected role
Accepting the external forces at play.

When my soul arrives then I shall begin again
Born anew sans sin so to be ready
Obtain contentment and maintain
Then it may grow and bloom steady

But I was wrong – my soul is not arriving. It is here.
Yet nothing changes. My dark doubts do not disappear.