Saving Me
November 29, 2008
Though you may not know it
You are saving me
Though you may not see it
You are giving me life
You may not understand it,
But I cherish who you are
You probably don’t think about it much
But you are never far from my mind
You may not like me
But I love you nonetheless
You may not even know me
But I feel like I’ve known you forever
Though you may not realize it,
You are saving me
And for this,
I’ll forever be grateful.
~wbv
Absence
November 27, 2008
In the absence of words
The silence is left
To carry the meaning
It’s the quiet
That begins to speak;
The things not said that
Say it all
~wbv
I Can't Say
November 26, 2008
What else is there to say?
If you haven’t heard me by now
There may be little hope left…
If you haven’t listened yet,
I doubt you ever will.
But don’t get me wrong,
I hold nothing against you.
You aren’t the cause of my silence
But rather the victim of my impatience…
The survivor of tangled speech,
Lost beneath the fold of quiet passion.
~wbv
I Can’t Say
November 26, 2008
What else is there to say?
If you haven’t heard me by now
There may be little hope left…
If you haven’t listened yet,
I doubt you ever will.
But don’t get me wrong,
I hold nothing against you.
You aren’t the cause of my silence
But rather the victim of my impatience…
The survivor of tangled speech,
Lost beneath the fold of quiet passion.
~wbv
Half A Soul
November 24, 2008
The man stands silent, looking out
To the distant bleak unknown
Holding softly half a heart
The half he calls his own
Walking on the sandy beach
The ocean at one side
Pondering how he came to live
With only half a life
Looking into depths not seen
The man can’t grasp the whole
The steps that span the length of love
Have left him half a soul
~wbv
Pick Up A Flower
November 21, 2008
This is an excerpt from a book I’m reading. I liked it so I thought I’d share…
“Pick up a flower–a beautiful, living, fresh rose. It smells wonderful. It reveals a lovely rhythm in the swirl of its petals, a rich yet dazzling color, a soft velvety texture. It moves and delights us.
The problem with the rose is that it dies. Its petals fall; it shrivels up; it turns brown and returns to the earth.
One solution to this problem is to ignore the real rose and substitute a plastic one, one that never dies (and never lives). But is a plastic rose what we want? No, of course not. We want the real rose. We want the one that dies. We want it because it dies, because it is fleeting, because it fades. It’s this very quality that makes it precious. This is what we want, what each of us is: a living thing that dies.”
(From Buddhism Plain And Simple, By Steve Hagen)
Somewhere
November 18, 2008
Somewhere, the yellow moon rises
Over the tranquil waters of a quiet pond
Creating a perfectly calm mix
Of reflection and reality
And nobody is there to enjoy it.
Somewhere, a writer is writing a book,
Pouring out their heart onto the pages,
Telling a story that the world
Desperately needs to hear
And it will never be published, or read.
Somewhere, a heart is breaking,
Filled with anguish and devoid of hope,
Waiting, watching, reaching out in vain
For the mere possibility of friendship
And that heart will never find what it longs for.
Somewhere, a child is dying,
Sick and starving to death
In serious need of food and medical care
With no parents, no siblings, no friends
And nobody around to give a damn.
Someday, Somewhere
Someone will read something like this
And decide to feed the child, be the friend,
Publish the book, and find that picture-perfect reflection
~wbv
Hidden
November 14, 2008
Beneath, below
Beyond, away
Far from sight
And not to stay
Folded, covered
Lost, between
High in flight
And not yet seen
Shattered ceiling
Broken wall
The untold story
Will answer all
But answer not
This doubt today
The shadow stands
And walks away
~wbv
Love Affair
November 13, 2008
It’s not everyday that you find a person that you can relate to so incredibly well that it’s almost mystical. Of all the people you’ll meet in your life, it’s likely that there will be very, very few like “this”.
It’s not everyday that you find a person who has something to teach you so profound, that it changes your life and your outlook permanently, leaving you better, never the same.
It’s not everyday that you find not just one of these special individuals, but a seemingly unending supply of them just waiting to share their stories.
But this is what it seems I’ve found…
in the pages of some books on Indian history that I picked up recently. Ah, history books. Sometimes it’s a little more work to read them, but if you just give them a chance, they can impact you and your thinking in all sorts of wonderful ways.
History used to bore me. Now I can’t imagine life without it.
