LET YOURSELF REST

If you’re exhausted, rest.
If you don’t feel like starting a new project, don’t.
If you don’t feel the urge to make something new,

just rest in the beauty of the old, the familiar, the known.

If you don’t feel like talking, stay silent.
If you’re fed up with the news, turn it off.
If you want to postpone something until tomorrow, do it.
If you want to do nothing, let yourself do nothing today.

Feel the fullness of the emptiness, the vastness of the silence, the sheer life in your unproductive moments.

Time does not always need to be filled.
You are enough, simply in your being.

By Jeff Foster

"SUNBURST" © Leah C. Dancel 2020

Photo Credit:

Miemie Verdida

Sunshine Coast

Queensland 

"SUNBURST"

The light from above pricks through the clouds
A prism of truth that's what it spreads
A divine warning for all humanity
That all vicious cycle of stigma should cease.

The light of day from darkness of night prevails
And all secrets of evildoers must be revealed;
The earth has been subdued by devils more than men
How often tribulations from apocalypse they bring.

Hope, joy and peace are the means to the end
As grief, pain and sorrow become a passing trend
Sunburst is The LIGHT of Hope for all mankind
Let it shine through your heart and mind.

©Leah C. Dancel
Copyright©March 19, 2020
All rights reserved
SH-AUSTRALIA

⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⏬⏬⏬⏬⏬⏬⏬⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇⬇

The above title is inspired from the photo SUNRISE AT ANGKOR WAT, CAMBODIA featured by BING

 
Photo Credit @Sergio Diaz/Getty Images

BE LOST IN THE CALL

By Rumi

Lord, said David, since you do not need us,

why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,

I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,

and I wished this treasure to be known,

so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;

its darkened back, the world;

The back would please you if you've never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?

Yet clean away the mud and straw, 

and a mirror might be revealed.

Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,

it isn't wine. If you wish your heart to be bright,

you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:

You return just as you left.

Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.

This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.

He is a hat to a hundred bald men,

a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!

How could a zephyr ride an ass?

Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.

Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.

Let the caller and the called disappear;

be lost in the Call.

SOMEPLACE WHERE THE SKY IS BLUE

The heart desires to go

Someplace where the sky is blue

Where the stars shine bright at night 

And I have nothing to do.

To sit upon a rolling green

And watch birds flying around,

Hear the sounds that nature makes

As I lay my body flat on the ground.

My heart yearns a place that's quiet

Where the whisper of trees is heard

And the touch of a breeze passing softly by,

The flapping wings of an in-flight bird.

To immerse my being in nature's womb

And feel the feelings of different lives,

Learn the wisdom they hide within

That makes the bees make their hives.

~Raj Yogi

THE VOICE OF REASON

The voice of reason is soft,

Muted;

It’s drowned easily in the din

That emotions make.
The voice of reason 

Remains unheard

Until much later

When regret flowers like a lotus

In a pond of pain.
The voice of reason 

Is gentle;
It soothes more,

Admonishes little.
The voice of reason

Is easily strangled 

When madness rages

Drunk on power.
The voice of reason 

Is the tiny voice 

That is heard sometimes

In silence.

~Raj Yogi

WORDS FROM PEN

"Words from pen,
flowing smoothly
like the cold autumn breeze,
carrying emotions,
raw and deep,
with the ease of ships
sailing on waves
past lands in calm seas,
touchings and moving hearts,
of old, of young
with subtlety."

~Meishel Mei

"ANGELS COME TO BRING THEM HOME"

Upon a December’s dawning light
I heard your mournful cry indict
The mood of mirth in merry play,
The day angels took her away.

I heard your dirges made of love
Stir for a while the sky above;
The song of your lamentation
Departing with the final moon.

How long can a butterfly stay
Over the field’s bloom and decay?
Til vibrant petals wither down 
And be part of a fertile ground.

Oh we thought all good and sublime
Would defy the imposing time!
But all roads lead to the Maker’s truth
Though all that’s good seems headed south.

The toil of day shall face the west;
Souls, old and tired shall take their rest;

Mortal passing may not their doom,
When angels come to bring them home.

--Bag-iw Lumpias Gil .................
(Cordillera)

Prologue
REST IN PEACE Lola Cristina Bua-ay Bongalos, younger sister of my grandfather Bag-iw. She passed away a day after Christmas, at age 96.

This poem goes out to the bereaved, especially to my Dad. I know he didn’t only lose an aunt, he too lost his 1st grade teacher.

"A PORTRAIT ON THE WALL"

It is like my shadow that does not follow me
It stares at your face and does not blink it’s eyes
It also smiles at you but does not move its lips
It will not answer you when you speak to it.

It seems like my shadow that just stands still
It stays where I left it and does not even mind
It sees when you smile and even when you cry
But that’s all it can do to look and watch at you.

It’s what I’ll leave behind that lasts longer than me
For all people I love and their children to be
To God I pray and beg to have someone I love
To keep my own portrait remembered and revered.

It is my own portrait that I hung on the wall

It is the real me only without my soul

To people I have known forgive the wrong I did

Those who love and help me to them I give my thanks.

CREATED by:
Emilio Laxamana Aguinaldo
10 December 2019

“A GENTLEMAN’S PRIDE”

Where do a gentleman’s pride lies?

It is beyond his colorful dangling ties

Or in a sleek suit and his wide grin smiles

Where do a gentleman’s pride lies?

Not in his carefully brushed up hair

Nor the expensive shoes he likes to pair

Where do a gentleman’s pride lies?

Maybe in his expressive long strides

Or his perfume scent you’re trying to hide

Where do a gentleman’s pride lies?

In the tics and tocs of his cane I bet not

Woven in his silky sleeves? I think of it a lot

I think we’re looking in the wrong place

It is in his treatment of his loved parents

And his calmly demeanor in deadly torrents

Maybe it is not a place per se at very all

A class he shows in front of the crowds,

The way he handle his lady with gracious bows

In one of a tale a kingsman once said

Dear boy, thy manners maketh a man

Walk the righteous path,

Speak the truth beyond that,

Treat others with much respect,

This things you’ll never regret,

Now dear boy you know where it lies

Pledge!
Make it the very motto of your own life!

_myshl

0040H

03 November 2019

Source: FB

AFTER AWHILE

by Veronica A. Shoffstall
(1971)

After awhile you learn the subtle difference of holding a hand and changing a soul;

And you learn that love is not about leaning and company is not about security;

And you begin to learn that kisses are not contracts and presents are not promises;

And you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes ahead with the grace of a woman, not a grief of a child. 

And you learn to build all your roads today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans and futures have a way of falling in mid-flights.

After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much;

So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers;

And you learn you can really endure and you are really strong and you really have worth;

And you learn and you learn and you learn.
With every goodbyes you learn...

After awhile.

THE UNSAID

Information may come from reading what’s written

And hearing what is being said;

But wisdom comes from understanding

That which is neither written or said

For the art of reading between the lines

Is an art that no one teaches.

An art that no one teaches

But is learnt by one who observes
Is an art that helps us touch

That which little has touched...

Come and sit by my side,

Let my silence touch yours

And let our silence collect those fruits

That words can never bear...

~ Raj Yogi

THE DIGITAL SELF

By Melanie Amante Mabao Maguindanao

Seemingly suspended frozen in the frigid air...
I examined myself again in the mirror.
I saw my avatar in a metaverse where the sky is the limit.
Is this a way to trick the senses?
Maybe some neural implant has been inserted so that I can't tell the difference between playing my life or the second life...on a never ending calculus of reality and fantasy.

My heart stopped in there for a moment.

Is it really possible to digitalize the self?
To leave your body and upload the mind?
A post-human living entirely inside a machine...creating an absence of human flaws and weaknesses?

It is a concept of having an appearance without the traces and sutures of wear and tear but a seamless indestructible image of the self in an alternate world.

The idea more than appealing is rather sticky. The wild and the weird sounds mysterious and interesting sometimes... but, I would rather have reality decompose me from the outside, than think of a new world that brings about new dangers!

Source: FB, My Avatar on the Mirror, November 5, 2018

TH … TH … THUNDER

By George Daniel Anos

Sometimes we choose to live alone
And people ask us why
Our tongues we hold and merely smile
then leave them hanging dry

Most often too these questions' tone
Are full of genuine wonder
But only if they knew the tale
Left by the last loud thunder

Streaking wild from the sky
From darkly clouds above
We were swept of what we thought
We will forever have

The brightness caught us suddenly
And lifted darkness' curtain
That next ones will be longer still
Of that we thought we're certain

So it struck straight into our heart
too stunned for any objection
Just like a child who hasn't yet
Seen a storm in action

With each new blast on that dark night
Our spirits rose ever higher
The crackling charges gave our spines
electrifying shivers

Too caught up in that wondrous sight
The thunders barely heard
Till that last time it streaked the sky
To our ears it finally bared

Unlike the gentle Sun and moon when
days end and nights begin
Sometimes we cannot see them
Still they return again

Such things are true of sudden love
we surrender everything
Without knowing if its real
right from the beginning

The echoing final rumbles
Of the night with a brightened sky
When lightning strikes were all we saw
Until that sad goodbye.

Source: FB/Thundery weather
November 1, 2019

FORGED BY FIRE

Oh Didi Dreaming Fire and Wind
copyright by Yesu Ben (2012)
Forged by Fire (Amazon)

‪Oh Didi dreaming fire and wind,‬
‪Would you bring me there,‬
‪Teach me your night-waltz; dance with me‬
‪Tapping out loud in lunar sea,‬
‪God’s substance innocent and free‬
‪basking in the glare?‬

‪Convince the fire that eats the night,‬
‪Not to slay the dark,‬
‪And ask the wind, the cold it brings,‬
‪The breezes on raw holy wings,‬
‪The mournful anthem that it sings‬
‪Not to kill the spark.‬

‪Comes the water from the river,‬
‪Comes it from the deep‬
‪Oh scream at it that it may cease‬
‪Its gladness soaking calm and peace‬
‪That in regret and woe increase‬
‪When in your fear you weep.‬

‪Go fly so ever far away‬
‪‘til you hear the sky‬
‪Until you hear its bitter song‬
‪Remaining so devoid so long‬
‪And blasting wind and rain so strong,‬
‪That you may know why.‬

‪Lose your strength in thoughtless seeking,‬
‪Lose also your soul‬
‪And tolerance for what’s been told‬
‪As you’ve grown weary, you’ve grown old‬
‪To truths that don’t count and don’t hold,‬
‪Bits that make the whole.‬

‪Climb up now the high high mountain‬
‪Your God-seeking self‬
‪Conquer all of your illusions,‬
‪Free yourself from all delusion,‬
‪Face the sea cliff of deception‬
‪Kill your untrue self.‬

‪*Didi is sister in Sanskrit (Nun)‬

TREES

🌳🌳🌳
By Estelle Cortes


I see you all almost everyday,

When I traverse along the road,

You waved to me 

And whispered in the wind,

You gave me shade

During hot summertime,

And cooled my face

When it's too hot to run.
Then you fell down,

One by one.

The majestic Tree friends

I've known.

My heart bleed,

A part of my Soul died.

In my mind are words
"My Tree Friends are gone."
Goodbye dear friends,

I will miss your comforting shade
And the whispers of your leaves.
Mere words are not enough,
To honor you All,
Who, even in death continues to help.

~Estelle~
October 17, 2019

LEGACY

By Estelle Cortes

Light and darkness, 

Beauty, like memory fades.

Be not ashamed,

Embrace the darkness

Even in the madness,

Grow like a seed,

When planted,

Will take root

Beneath the ground, 

Then spring upwards 

Reaching for the sun. 

As it grows, 

It benefits 

What surrounds it,

Giving shade, 

Providing fruits, 

A shelter for the birds. 

And when the time comes

It'll fall, 

Even in death 

Still as useful. 

So I strive hard

To be like a tree, 

In life 

And in death 

I will leave 

A beautiful legacy.


~Estelle ~

March 10, 2019

WHAT A PITY WE'RE ALMOST BLIND

By Michael A. Taylor

What a pity we're almost blind 
For daily we pass minute jewels
Much finer than anything worn by queens 
Way beyond the skills of humankind,
As if the products of the fairy world
Had somehow found their way into ours -
Such is their incredible design.

Though we know we should dawdle 
We are poor at pausing 
To smell the flowers while we still have time
To watch a butterfly crossing our path
Or bend to examine a dragonfly's wings.
Instead, we hurry and seem to accept 
That we live with hollowed hearts.

Source: POEM FROM EXILE

TO THE SLEEPING LADY

By Romeo Balingcongan

I wonder
If you have always been sleeping all these years?
Was there ever a time when you lay prone on your tummy

Your face held by both your hands propped against your chin

Watching the people of the lake

Do what they normally do each day

Housewives and other female household members

Washing clothes at the lakeshore or 

Agus River or other outlets from the lake.

Farmers bringing vegetables, fruits,

Marang, durian, or whatever produce they had

Fishermen their catches for the day

Vendors selling their wares in Padian

Malongs and straw mats and blankets

Woven the traditional way

Buyers haggling for lower prices

Horse driven carts then

Jeepneys and motorcabs now

Plying their routes

Private vehicles going to wherever they're going to

At arranged weddings and aqeeqas?
Smiling perhaps at the little foibles of the people of the lake?
Were you sad

At the occasional Meranaw custom of vendetta

Rido, they call it, that disturbed

The normal flow of life for the families involved?
Did you cry

When wars plagued the land

Resisting invaders from foreign lands?
And did you shed tears

As you watched Marawi bombed

Reduced to rubbles

The chaotic din of everyday life

Silenced?
Are you mourning still

The lives that were lost

In that senseless war

And the souls that were scattered

To who knows where?
Do nightmares disturb you

Of terrible things yet to come

When, God forbid,

All the pent up rage are not contained

When blood shall be spilt and turn the land crimson?
Or, do you, with the wisdom born

Of thousands and thousands of years

Who lived long before the first settlers set their feet upon the land

See beyond our ken a brighter joyous day

When the People of the Tents

Come home and be once more the proud

People of the Lake?
Pray tell me, Sleeping Lady

For my soul is faint

My heart heavy.
Tell me please.

THE WHITE SWANS

By John Jude Palencar

In a foreign country with unknown language
Sitting on the porch, watching, listening,
Letting people, events, experiences passing by
Some are nice, some hypocrite, crazy, harmful

Especially in these days I look at myself and ask:
How come that so so much I have not seen?
And what to do about wrong and harmful doings I know of?
I stumbled about a 'stone' - must I make it known to others?

I learn to accept for myself care and help
Knowing: everything less than respect is unacceptable
Healing, growing, understanding, speaking out
And I say to myself with gratitude and joy:

'You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Daring to hold hands with the Sacred One
I know I hear the music with such longing
But never learnt to dance as it was demanded

You have not danced ugly at all, my dear
A shy crushed child, a broken vessel
You have tangoed with great style
Your own style in your unique world

The child, the woman, faithful and true
You claimed to near God's heart even more
In following the call of our King of Love
You have indeed danced lovely, dear brave woman'

BEYOND FORGETTING

‪by Rolando A. Carbonell‬

‪For a moment I thought I could forget you.‬
‪For a moment I thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart‬
‪I thought the past could no longer
haunt me – nor hurt me.‬
‪How wrong I was!‬
‪For the past,
no matter how distant,
is as much a part of me as life itself.‬

‪And you are part of that life. ‬
‪You are so much a part of me — of my dreams, ‬
‪my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions – ‬
‪that in all tasks I can’t help remembering you.‬
‪Many little delights and things remind me of you. ‬

‪Yes, I came. ‬
‪And would my pride mock my real feelings? ‬
‪Would the love song, ‬
‪the sweet and lovely smile on your face, ‬
‪be lost among the deepening shadows?‬

‪I have wanted to be alone. ‬
‪I thought I could make myself forget you ‬
‪In silence and in song… ‬
‪And yet I remembered.‬
‪For who could forget the memory ‬
‪of the once lovely, the once beautiful, ‬
‪the once happy world such as ours?‬

‪I came because the song that I kept ‬
‪through the years is waiting to be sung. ‬
‪I cannot sing it without you. ‬
‪The song when sung alone will lose ‬
‪the essence of its tune, ‬
‪because you and I had been one.‬

‪I have wanted this misery to end, ‬
‪because it is part of my restlessness. ‬
‪Can’t you understand? ‬
‪Can’t you divine the depth and tenderness ‬
‪of my feelings towards you?‬
‪Yes, can’t you see how I suffer ‬
‪in this even darkness without you?‬

‪You went away because ‬
‪you mistook my silence for indifference. ‬
‪But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.‬
‪How could I essay the intensity of my love ‬
‪when silence speaks a more eloquent tone? ‬
‪But perhaps, you didn’t understand…‬

‪Remember, I came, ‬
‪because the gnawing loneliness is there ‬
‪and will be lost until the music is sung, ‬
‪until the poem is heard, ‬
‪until the silence is understood…‬
‪until you come to me again.‬

‪For you alone ‬
‪can blend music and memory ‬
‪into one consuming ecstasy. ‬
‪You alone…‬

YOUR MIND - YOUR SOIL

It’s all about the mind, my dear -
That’s where suffering takes root
And that’s where pain is born
And that’s also where salvation blooms.

It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where the seeds of suffering were sown
And unknown to you, though it’s your mind
That’s where the suffering has slowly grown.

It’s all about the mind, dear one -
Where your pain was watered and fed.
You had no idea how it kept growing
And how you even took it to bed.

It’s all about the mind, dear one -
That’s where you can grow joy and bliss;
You have a toolbox filled with things
That can help you easily accomplish this.

Learn to tend your mind with loving care
Like a gardener tends his garden -
You need to become its gardener and
You need to become its vigilant warden.

Your mind is a fertile land with soil
That can give a harvest of abundant grain;
Why then do you settle for suffering,
Why do you drown yourself in pain?

~ Raj Yogi

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

LOVE ME NOW WHILE I CAN KNOW

"If you're ever going to love me, love me now while I can know.
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.

Love me now, while I'm living; do not wait 'til I am gone.
And then chisel it on marble - words on ice, cold stone.

If you have dear sweet thoughts about me. Why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know it would make me happy and as glad as glad could be?

If you wait until I'm sleeping, never to awaken here again,
there will be walls of earth between us and couldn't hear you then.

I won't need your kind caresses when the grass grows over my face.
I won't crave your love or kisses in my last low resting place.

So then, if you love me any, if it's but a little bit.
Let me know while I am living, so I can own it treasure it."

~Anon~

A THOUSAND SILENT TIMES EACH DAY

By Michael A. Taylor

A thousand silent times each day

I speak to you, my Sweet.

In a thousand unwitnessed ways

I demonstrate my love.

All day my thoughts accompany you 

Beside, behind, in front of you.

Unguessed by you 

I study and delight in you.

And, maybe sometimes sensed by you - 

Though you conclude it is the wind - 

It is I who disturbs your hair, 

And lightly, so lightly, kisses you.

LONELINESS

Being alone I felt the gloom,
but deep in my heart sadness has no room.
When I am in doubt of what is happening to me,
I just bend my knees and start to pray.
I prayed to Yahweh to make me strong.
Save my soul from being wrong.

Prayed so hard to Yahweh to stay.
Never leave my side anytime of day. 
I prayed to Yahweh with all my heart,
that from loneliness I must depart.
Pray that our children remembers us.
May they be reminded of the pasts.
Oh my children I love you so.
I really wanted to be with you.
But in my remaining years I have to know,
if being by myself I still can grow.
My wayward ways I put to rest.
Now I am ready for the final test.
To face my challenge till the end,

with somebody that Yahweh did send.

(holy5naptorres)
8:51pm
8/13/2019