~*~ A Poetic Interlude ~*~, By: Franklin Merrell-Wolff (1887-1985)

Am I a man? Yet also am I a god,

For I am that which comprehends both gods and men.

I move among men in the form of a man,

Fallible, more or less good, like the rest.

Yet, also, I shine with the gods in Glory.

I compress Myself in the mineral,

Inert and long-enduring.

Ceaselessly I grow as a plant,

and am driven by desire as animal.

I am in all, yet ever Beyond all.

A Flame am I that nowhere remains;

I consume all.

As I write I am sitting on a pavement of cement.

A tree grows near, its roots, soft and brittle, beneath that pavement.

Ceaselessly, slowly, but inevitably, those roots expand.

The cement gives way, its resistance impotent.

So, too, I expand, inevitably, remorselessly, in this world.

Before Me no crystallization can stand.

In the end, all other powers fail;

My own, once more, return to Me.

What matters health, sickness or death;

Passing modes in the endless Stream of Life?

In health I go forth, perchance to forget;

In sickness I look within and remember.

Which is the greater blessing?

I know not.

Men seek health. I seek not at all.

I give health and accept the blessing of sickness.

Yet, beyond all these, AM I— Unbound.

Do I look for faults in men?

Then surely I will find them;

Dishonesty, lust, greed, hatred, and all the rest.

All these come with immense fecundity.

Do I look beyond to the good?

Then what a glorious paragon is man!

Generous, kind, and fair-dealing.

Which of these is the real?

Neither and both. Man reflects just what I seek.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

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~*~ Love’s Young Dream~*~ By: By: Thomas Moore

Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright

My heart’s chain wove;

When my dream of life, from morn till night,

Was love, still love.

New hope may bloom,

And days may come,

Of milder calmer beam,

But there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream:

No, there’s nothing half so sweet in life

As love’s young dream.

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,

When wild youth’s past;

Though he win the wise, who frown’d before,

To smile at last;

He’ll never meet

A joy so sweet,

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman’s ear

His soul-felt flame,

And, at every close, she blush’d to hear

The one loved name.

No, — that hallow’d form is ne’er forgot

Which first love traced;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot

On memory’s waste.

‘Twas odour fled

As soon as shed;

‘Twas morning’s winged dream;

‘Twas a light, tht ne’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream:

Oh! ’twas light that n’er can shine again

On life’s dull stream.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

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~*~Nothing Gold Can Stay ~*~ by: Robert Lee Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

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~*~ Grace ~*~ BY: – SVEIN MYRENG

There is a stillness

simpler than silence

a peace deeper

than calm.

There is a shimmering

in the dark soil,

shades of trees,

in old moss, and the twisted

forms of branches,

that hold us, carry us

and nurture us.

In the flash of the eye,

laughter, or a tear.

No effort needed, no self to seek,

just grace remains.