Daily Living Philosophy Poetry Words Writing

I Wish

I wish good things upon you.

I wish you are happy and content.

I wish you love, purpose, and satisfaction.

I wish that gentle kindness is always given to you.

I wish you success.

I wish you good health.

Nature Poetry

Intuitive Feeling

It is an intuitive feeling, when you know that you have a connection with another person even though you may not have spoken directly with each other. Both individuals project their dreams, wants, and desires towards each other, and there is a connection formed. This is a special feeling. How do you bridge the gap into an actuality, reality, from the two separate minds and spirits? Verbal communication I suppose. Yet choosing the right words must be a refined practice… and I don’t have that experience, as such moments are rare, so forming a verbal connection isn’t as perfect as the potential. Yet any effort to genuinely connect with each other, is truly perfect, especially when the effort is mutual. There is potential, a beginning stage of love.


The Lover

"I give to thee the Autumn rose,
Let it say how dear thou art ;
All my lips dare not disclose,
Let it whisper to thy heart ;
How love draws my soul to thee,
Without language thou may'st see."
Poetry This and That Words Writing

The Moon’s Wisdom

All too often we are human
who explore / look / search to find ourselves.
This place of being we say it’s good / okay / true, when we’ve found ourselves.
And when we haven’t yet seen our true mirror, what do we call that place of being?
Some days I wish I could ask the moon to let me in on what it knows.
Because the moon reflects the sun, only then could I know the nature of day.


Gift of Gifts

O gift of gifts! O grace of faith! My God! How can it be that thou, who has discerned love, shouldst give that love to me?

How many hearts thou mightst have had more innocent than mine! How many souls more worthy far of that sweet touch of thine?

Ah, grace! into unlikeliest hearts it is thy boast to come, the glory of thy light to find in darkest spots a home.

Oh, happy, happy that I am! If thou canst be, O faith, the treasure that thou art in life what wilt thou be in death?

Mysticism Poetry

I honor those who try.

I honor those who try
to rid themselves of any lying,
who empty the self
and have only clear being there.
Art Poetry This and that. Writing


Words, varied and fancy
Delightful, loving and embracing
Comforting and kind and sweet
I wish to give to you
If only I could
To the earth and sky and stars
To the heavens above
Creatures below
One and all
In the spirit of giving;
Words - comforting and kind and sweet.
Poetry Story

The Flower

Once in a golden hour
I cast to earth a seed.
Up there came a flower,
The people said, a weed.
To and fro they went
Thro' my garden-bower,
And muttering discontent
Cursed me and my flower.
Then it grew so tall
It wore a crown of light...
Sow'd it far and wide
By every town and tower,
Till all the people cried,
"Splendid is the flower."
Read my little fable :
He that runs may read.
Most can raise the flowers now,
For all have got the seed.
And some are pretty enough,
And some are poor indeed
And now again the people
Call it but a weed.
Poetry Writing

Stepping Westward

“What, you are stepping westward?” “Yea”

-‘Twould be a wildish destiny

If we who thus together roam

In a strange land, and far from home,

Were in this place the guests of chance:

Yet who would stop, or fear to advance,

Though home or shelter he had none,

With such a sky to lead him on?

The dewy ground was dark and cold;

Behind, all gloomy to behold:

And stepping westward seemed to be

A kind of heavenly destiny:

I liked the greeting: ’twas a sound

Of something without place and bound,

And seemed to give me spiritual right

To travel through that region bright.

The voice was soft, and she who spake

Was walking by her native lake:

The salutation had to me

The very sound of courtesy:

It’s power was felt: and while my eye

Was fixed upon the glowing sky,

The echo of the voice enwrought

A human sweetness with the thought

Of travelling through the world that lay

Before me in my endless way.


If It Be True That Any Beauteous Thing

If it be true that any beauteous thing
Raises the pure and just desire of man
From earth to God, the eternal fount of all,
Such I believe my love ; for as in her
So fair, in whom I all besides forget,
I view the gentle work of her creator,
I have no care for any other thing,
Whilst thus I love.  Nor is it marvellous,
Since the effect is not of my own power,
If the soul doth, by nature tempted forth,
Enamored through the eyes,
Repose upon the eyes which it resembleth,
And through them riseth to the Primal Love,
As to its end, and honors in admiring;
For who adores the Maker needs must love his