Apr 2018
Our lives are not ours and ours alone; into this world of needs we are thrown. We are bound to each other in one way or another from first breath to last sigh, by each act of kindness or unkind we are tied.
Our past, present and our tomorrow’s can be full of happiness or sorrow, the consequence of what we do today ripples through eternity’s come what mays. Death is only one door that shuts and one door that opens up for all others and us.
The power that drives a man to cower in dark hours can drive that man in the next to run into the fire. The unseen force that lets us transcend we carry with us over and over again.
This power guides our life it is up to us to do with it what is right, there is no coincidence every turn of events leads us to what, and where we are meant. The time we have is sublet our deeds are the rent, contempt or content what you get is what you sent.
Verily form and substance are like a dream, a fantasy or dew on the grass of green, and our fortunes are like a lighting flash, time may be infinite, but yours and mine will not last. What we do is but a drop in the wide ocean blue, but what is an ocean but a multitude of drops of what we do, Sink or swim in life’s ocean we that we are thrown in.
One small deed may only plant a seed for a tree but someday it will give shade in time of need if not for you then maybe for me.
Our lives are not our own, from womb to tomb we cannot make it alone. From this life to the next, from this decisive moment until eternal rest, our earthly lot is made of what we gave, not what we got; only this we can take to our grave.
Our past, present and our tomorrow’s can be full of happiness or sorrow, the consequence of what we do today ripples through eternity’s come what mays. Death is only one door that shuts and one door that opens up for all others and us.
The power that drives a man to cower in dark hours can drive that man in the next to run into the fire. The unseen force that lets us transcend we carry with us over and over again.
This power guides our life it is up to us to do with it what is right, there is no coincidence every turn of events leads us to what, and where we are meant. The time we have is sublet our deeds are the rent, contempt or content what you get is what you sent.
Verily form and substance are like a dream, a fantasy or dew on the grass of green, and our fortunes are like a lighting flash, time may be infinite, but yours and mine will not last. What we do is but a drop in the wide ocean blue, but what is an ocean but a multitude of drops of what we do, Sink or swim in life’s ocean we that we are thrown in.
One small deed may only plant a seed for a tree but someday it will give shade in time of need if not for you then maybe for me.
Our lives are not our own, from womb to tomb we cannot make it alone. From this life to the next, from this decisive moment until eternal rest, our earthly lot is made of what we gave, not what we got; only this we can take to our grave.
