DON'T BREAK A BIRD's WINGS

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

Don’t break a bird’s wings and then tell it to fly.
Don’t break a heart and then tell it to love.
Don’t break a soul and then tell it to be happy.
Don’t see the worst in a person
and expect them to see the best in you.
Don’t judge people and expect them to stand by your side.
Don’t play with fire and expect to stay perfectly safe.

Life is about giving and taking.
You cannot expect to give bad and receive good.
You cannot expect to give hate and receive love.
So if you’re willing to see positive change in your life,
You must be willing to be that change itself.
~Najwa Zebian

Source: Lessons Learned in Life

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

"A LOT LIKE HEAVEN"

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

"Long, long ago I learned to love those rolling hills and open plains.
To me it’s heaven.
There, if the sun is shinin’ down or if the dark clouds send the rain,
It’s still like heaven.
To me it's heaven.

Here comes the prairie sun.
It’s morning!
I wake and give the world this warnin’,
I’m mighty glad that I was born in
A land that’s close to heaven.

All through the day the plains I’m roamin’.
My heart has nowhere to be homin’.
I make my camp at twilight’s gloamin’
And there I’m close to heaven."

By Bob Nolan

Source: From the painting of Tom Cox Fine Arts

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

ON THE DAY I DIE

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

On the day I die a lot will happen.
A lot will change.
The world will be busy.
On the day I die, all the important appointments I made
will be left unattended.
The many plans I had yet to complete
will remain forever undone.
The calendar that ruled so many of my days
will now be irrelevant to me.
All the material things I so chased and guarded and treasured
will be left in the hands of others to care for or to discard.

The words of my critics which so burdened me
will cease to sting or capture anymore.
They will be unable to touch me.
The arguments I believed I’d won here will not serve me
or bring me any satisfaction or solace.

All my noisy incoming notifications and texts and calls
will go unanswered.
Their great urgency will be quieted.

My many nagging regrets will all be resigned to the past,
where they should have always been anyway.
Every superficial worry about my body that I ever labored over;
about my waistline or hairline or frown lines, will fade away.

My carefully crafted image,
the one I worked so hard to shape for others here,
will be left to them to complete anyway.
The sterling reputation I once struggled so greatly to maintain
will be of little concern for me anymore.

All the small and large anxieties that stole sleep from me each night
will be rendered powerless.
The deep and towering mysteries about life and death
that so consumed my mind will finally be clarified
in a way that they could never be before while I lived.
These things will certainly all be true on the day that I die.

Yet for as much as will happen on that day,
one more thing that will happen.
On the day I die, the few people who really know
and truly love me will grieve deeply.

They will feel a void.

They will feel cheated.

They will not feel ready.
They will feel as though a part of them has died as well.

And on that day, more than anything in the world
they will want more time with me.
I know this from those I love and grieve over.

And so knowing this, while I am still alive
I’ll try to remember that my time with them is finite
and fleeting and so very precious—
and I’ll do my best not to waste a second of it.

I’ll try not to squander a priceless moment worrying about
all the other things that will happen on the day I die,
because many of those things
are either not my concern or beyond my control.

Friends, those other things have an insidious way
of keeping you from living even as you live;
vying for your attention, competing for your affections.
They rob you of the joy of this unrepeatable, uncontainable, ever-evaporating
Now with those who love you and want only to share it with you.

Don’t miss the chance to dance with them while you can.

It’s easy to waste so much daylight in the days before you die.

Don’t let your life be stolen every day by all that you believe matters,
because on the day you die, much of it simply won’t.

Yes, you and I will die one day.
But before that day comes: let us live..

~ John Pavlovitz

Source: Lessons Learned in Life
April 20, 2017

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

CHEERFUL THOUGHTS LIGHTEN DARKEST FEARS

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

Cheerful thoughts like sunbeams
Lighten up the "darkest fears,
"
For when the heart is happy,

There's just no time for tears. 


And when the face is smiling,
It's impossible to frown,
And when you are "high-spirited,
"
You cannot feel "low-down."

For the nature of our attitude
Toward circumstantial things,

Determines our acceptance
Of the problems that life brings.

And since fear and dread and worry
Cannot help in any way,

It's much healthier and happier
To be cheerful every day.

And if you'll only try it
You will find, without a doubt,

A cheerful attitude's something
No one should be without.

For when the heart is cheerful,

It cannot be filled with fear,
And without fear, the way ahead,
Seems more distinct and clear.

Helen Steiner Rice (1900-1981
www.HelenSteinerRice.com

Source: www.Inspiration Line.com

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

I AM PEACEFUL

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

Be still, and create a relaxing space 

to move into the silent place within yourself.

Breathe deeply for several minutes to allow yourself

to connect with your inner source of power.

Once calm you'll more easily connect to your holy observer.

It's the private residence of your Soul.

Your spirit adores truthfulness, 
and in quietude
you can seek out and unearth your truth.

If you're struggling, 
go into it until
you find the cause, so it can be healed.

Move beyond the flurry and prattle of life

into sweet serenity, and submit to stillness.

Let go of the lure to indulge 
in
feelings of stress, urgency, and crisis.

Your vibration is uplifted in silence,
so seek solitude regularly

to listen to the voice of your highest self
and awaken your 
divine insight;
this harmony gives birth to profound tranquility.


~By Michelle Mullady

Source: Inspiration Line dot com

~•✿•~ ~•✿•~

SENSING LIFE

"I know the smell of happiness.
It smells of coffee, fresh made bread, and tea.
I know the sound of joy,
It sounds like baby song, leaves tinkling in trees
and the laughter of those I love
I see the colors of Love...
seething deep reds, strong blues,
and the slanting rainbow hues
I feel the touch of caring,
feeling velvety soft, crisp cool, yet warm
light and feathery gentle.
I hear the song of kindness
wistful, soulful, lilting soothing hymn.
I know the dreams within and out again
flowing, growing bright to dim.
Melting solitude, on my journey...
spiraling out to simply being me."

Source: I Love My Family

TRANQUILITY WILL RETURN

sometimes water rages,
and sometimes it's calm.

sometimes it’s still,
and you can frolic in its tranquil pools,
but sometimes it’s swift,
will crash you into rocks,
and will carry you far off course.

when the water is serene
and you see your reflection,
you know it’s not truly you;
it’s simply a projection.

so when the water becomes turbulent and cloudy,
don't think it’s confusion defines you,
it will continue to flow,
no matter how hard you struggle or resist.

don't get swept away by stormy waters,
they sink otherwise perfect ships.
use mindfulness as your anchor
to weather the storm
and keep yourself afloat.

tread water if you must,
but if you flail and thrash about,
you’ll tire quickly and will soon wear out.

vex not —
remain, centred, placid and calm,
while the torrent crashes around you.

troubled waters settle.
tranquility will return.

Brian Thompson

Source: Zen Thinking dot net

SHE WHO LOVES THE BEACH

No words can express,
The depth of her contentment,
As she walks along the beach.
As the waves lap against the shores,
They create the rhythm of her life.
Balmy breezes kiss,
Her sun-bronzed skin,
And she wonders..
Could there ever be a greater destiny,
Than to be born with a love,
For the treasures of the sea?
Here, she is home.

-Suzy Toronto

ღ══════•*¨*•.¸¸ღƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღ¸¸.•*¨*•══════ღ
⊰ღ POEMS FOR *✿* INSPIRATION ღ⊱
ღ══════•*¨*•.¸¸ღƸ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒღ¸¸.•*¨*•══════ღ
Design borrowed from the Garden of Grace

YOU ARE YOU

You are strong. . . when you take your
grief and teach it to smile.

You are brave. . . when you overcome your
fear and help others to do the same.

You are happy. . . when you see a flower
and are thankful for the blessing.

You are loving. . . when your own pain
does not blind you to the pain of others.

You are wise. . . when you
know the limits of your wisdom.

You are true. . . when you admit
there are times you fool yourself.

You are alive. . . when tomorrow's hope means
more to you than yesterday's mistake.

You are growing. . . when you know what
you are but not what you will become.

You are free. . . when you are in control of
yourself and do not wish to control others.

You are honorable. . . when you find
your honor is to honor others.

You are generous. . . when you
can take as sweetly as you can give.

You are humble. . . when you
do not know how humble you are.

You are thoughtful. . . when you see me
just as I am and treat me just as you are.

You are merciful. . . when you forgive in
others the faults you condemn in yourself.

You are beautiful. . . when you
don't need a mirror to tell you.

You are rich. . . when you never
need more than what you have.

You are you. . . when you are
at peace with who you are not.

Source: Positive Thoughts

LIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE

Even if everyone else is not doing good,
I alone will
Even if everyone else is doing wrong,
I alone will not

It is our thoughts
that lead us into trouble
not the other people

Rely on the teacher's message,
not the personality,
Rely on meaning,
not just words,
Rely on the real meaning,
not the provisional one,
Rely on your wisdom mind,
not your ordinary judgemental mind.

We are what we think,
all that we are arises with our thoughts,
with our thoughts,
we make the world.

Just as water cools both good and bad,
and washes away all impurity and dust,
in the same way you should develop,
thought of love for friend and foe alike,
and having reached perfection in love,
you will attain enlightenment.

To be proud of what we have received
or to envy others.
for what they have will rob us of our peace of mind.

If we fail to look after others
when they need help
who will look after us?
Indifference brings indifference
lovingkindness brings lovingkindness.

If I want to succeed in guiding a human being towards a given goal,
I must find him where he is and right start there...
to help a person I must know more than he does,
but above all
I must understand what he understands.

If I tell You something, You will forget it,
If I show You something, You will remember it,
If I involve in something, You will understand it.

There are three ways to correct our faults,
we can change through BEHAVIOR,
we can change through UNDERSTANDING,
we can change from the Heart.

Our words should be carefully chosen
for people will hear them and be
influenced by them for good or for ill.

If you know anything that is hurtful and untrue,
don't say it.
If you know anything that is helpful but untrue,
don't say it.
If you know anything that is hurtful but true,
don't say it.
If you know anything that is helpful and true
find the right time.

by Sajith Ranatunga

THE HOOVES OF THE HORSES

By W.H.Ogilvie

"The hooves of the horses O' witching and sweet
Is the music earth steals from the iron-shod feet
No whisper of lover, no trilling of bird
Can stir me as hooves of the horses have stirred
They spurn disappointment and trample despair
And drown with their drum beats the challenge of care
With scarlet and silk for their banners above
They are swifter than fortune and sweeter than love
On the wings of the morning they gather and fly
In the hush of the night-time I hear them go by
The horses of memory thundering through
With flashing white fetlocks all wet with the dew
When you lay me to slumber no spot you can choose
But will ring to the rhythm of galloping shoes
And under the daisies no grave be so deep
For the hooves of the horses to sound in my sleep"

Source: Tim Cox Fine Art's
"GOOD HORSES AND WIDE OPEN SPACES."

WHEN I HAVE FEARS

by John Keats

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;
When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
‪
Source: Old English Literature

EARTH GIFT LOVE MAN

The earth is a canvas
Nature the artist
You damage the canvas
You enrage the artist
Our lives are a gift
The choices our own
Squander the gift
Your on your own
Show compassion and love
To your fellow man
A world without love
Makes a beast out of man.

By: Shadowlands
November 14 2014

DREAM FOR WINTER

"In the winter, we shall travel in a little pink railway carriage
With blue cushions.
We shall be comfortable. A nest of mad kisses lies in wait
In each soft corner.
You will close your eyes, so as not to see, through the glass,
The evening shadows pulling faces.
Those snarling monsters, a population
Of black devils and black wolves.
Then you'll feel your cheek scratched...
A little kiss, like a crazy spider,
Will run round your neck...
And you'll say to me : "Find it !" bending your head
- And we'll take a long time to find that creature
- Which travels a lot...

By: Arthur Rimbaud
In a railway carriage, October 7, 70
- As translated by Oliver Bernard
(French poet Arthur Rimbaud died in Marseille, France, on this day in 1891, aged 37)

Source: Everyman's Library

ODE TO AUTUMN

by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,---
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Source: Everyman's Library

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Lord Alfred Tennyson, 1809 - 1892

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

THE LAMB

Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I’ll tell thee;
Little lamb, I’ll tell thee:
He is callèd by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are callèd by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!

− William Blake, 1789

LOVE and FRIENDSHIP

by Emily Brontë

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who will call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He still may leave thy garland green.
*
A celebration of friendship in all its aspects--from the delight of making a new friend to the serene joys of longtime devotion. Poems about best friends, false friends, dear friends, lost friends, even animal friends. These poems have been selected from the work of great poets in all times and places, including Emily Dickinson, W.H. Auden, Henry David Thoreau, William Shakespeare, Sappho, Robert Frost, Rudyard Kipling, Walt Whitman, and many others.

Source: Everyman's Library

ANNABEL LEE

by Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

On this day in 1849 Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee" was published, just two days after his death. (October 11)

Source: Everyman's Library

SWEENEY AMONG THE NIGHTINGALES

by T. S. Eliot (1888 - 1965)

Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees
Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganized upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the bloody wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid droppings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.

Source: Everyman's Library

TWO RIVERS

by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thy summer voice, Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit
Through thee, as thou through the Concord Plain.
Thou in thy narrow banks art pent:
The stream I love unbounded goes
Through flood and sea and firmament;
Through light, through life, it forward flows.
I see the inundation sweet,
I hear the spending of the steam
Through years, through men, through Nature fleet,
Through love and thought, through power and dream.
Musketaquit, a goblin strong,
Of shard and flint makes jewels gay;
They lose their grief who hear his song,
And where he winds is the day of day.
So forth and brighter fares my stream,—
Who drink it shall not thirst again;
No darkness taints its equal gleam,
And ages drop in it like rain.

Source: Everyman's Library

Ralph Waldo Emerson is one of the best-loved figures in nineteenth-century American literature. Though he earned his central place in our culture as an essayist and philosopher, since his death his reputation as a poet has grown as well. Known for challenging traditional thought and for his faith in the individual, Emerson was the chief spokesman for the Transcendentalist movement. His poems speak to his most passionately held belief: that external authority should be disregarded in favor of one’s own experience. From the embattled farmers who “fired the shot heard round the world” in the stirring “Concord Hymn,” to the flower in “The Rhodora,” whose existence demonstrates “that if eyes were made for seeing, / Then Beauty is its own excuse for being,” Emerson celebrates the existence of the sublime in the human and in nature. Combining intensity of feeling with his famous idealism, Emerson’s poems reveal a moving, more intimate side of the man revered as the Sage of Concord.

AUTUMN

Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows,
And all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone.
I already hear the dead thuds of logs below
Falling on the cobblestones and the lawn.
All of winter will return to me:
derision, Hate, shuddering, horror, drudgery and vice,
And exiled, like the sun, to a polar prison,
My soul will harden into a block of red ice.
I shiver as I listen to each log crash and slam:
The echoes are as dull as executioners' drums.
My mind is like a tower that slowly succumbs
To the blows of a relentless battering ram.
It seems to me, swaying to these shocks, that someone
Is nailing down a coffin in a hurry somewhere.
For whom? -- It was summer yesterday; now it's autumn.
Echoes of departure keep resounding in the air.

~Charles Baudelaire

*
Modern poetry begins with Charles Baudelaire (1821-67), who employed his unequalled technical mastery to create the shadowy, desperately dramatic urban landscape -- populated by the addicted and the damned -- which so compellingly mirrors our modern condition. Deeply though darkly spiritual, titanic in the changes he wrought, Baudelaire looms over all the work, great and small, created in his wake.

Source: Everyman's Library

THE MORE LOVING ONE

"Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time."

by W. H. Auden

Source: Everyman's Library

W.H. Auden died in Vienna, Austria on this day in 1973 (aged 66).

SEE ON THE INSIDE

♥*✿*•♥

Sometimes people are quick
to judge others,
when what you see
isn't really all there.

People have different moods
different personalities
different desires,
so what you're really seeing
is only a mask,
of what others want you to see.

On the inside,
we all have the same desires,
a kind smile,
a warm heart,
a tender soul,
all wanting to be reached
on the inside.

We're all not perfect,
only human,
we'll have ups and downs
like a merry-go-round,
we'll make many mistakes.

But just remember,
the next time you see a person,
do not judge whats on
the outside,
we could be having a bad day.

Try and see on the inside,
and you will see,
the kind smile,
the warm heart,
the tender soul,
reaching out....

Copyright © Sherri Emily Avery

Source: Positive Thoughts

Where Peaceful Waters Flow

The clouds break forth the streams of light
To dance upon the earth,
And cradled in the sands of time,
Comes a newborn babies'' birth.
A gentle breeze blows through the night,
It whispers through the grass,
And ripples on the water form
As rain glistens on the glass.

And you listen to the sound,
The Lords' presence all around.
He summons us to go
Where peaceful waters flow.

A rainbow arcs across the sky,
A promise is displayed.
The graceful flight of a butterfly,
It takes my breath away.
The autumn leaves in their splendor
Fall gracefully to the earth,
And stars proclaim their song at night,
What is their beauty worth?

And you listen to the sound,
The Lords' presence all around.
He summons us to go
Where peaceful waters flow.

© Keith Burroughs
Feb 2011

Source: Family Friends Poetry