BEATING HEART

BEATING HEART
"Many a beating heart is silenced by the tyranny of indifference." ~Michael Faudet

THE PUREST PLACE

THE PUREST PLACE
"Retrace your steps and go back to the purest place in your heart… where your hope lives. You’ll find your way again.” ~Everwood (Trust Your Journey)

The Bible says

"a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of things which he possesseth."

31 October 2025

BUTTERFLIES

CTTO



 
Butterflies Carry Our Names


The Elders say
butterflies are the breath of those we have lost,
returning to see if we still remember their songs.

She walks through the dawn light,
the Earth warm beneath her feet,
the mountains watching in stillness.

Around her, golden wings rise
spirits of grandmothers,
sisters,
children yet to be born,
each one brushing her skin
like a prayer whispered in cedar smoke.

She holds one in her palm,
and it tells her without words:
“You are the river we once drank from.
You are the fire we still warm our hands by.”

Tears fall without shame.
She lifts her face to the sky,
and the wind takes them
turning them into rain
that will feed the wildflowers,
so the butterflies will have a home
when they return again.

🎨: Serin Alar



THE WANDER-LIGHT

By Henry Lawson, 1902

And they heard the tent-poles clatter,
And the fly in twain was torn –
‘Tis the soiled rag of a tatter
Of the tent where I was born.
And what matters it, I wonder?
Brick or stone or calico? –
Or a bush you were born under,
When it happened long ago?

And my beds were camp beds and tramp beds and damp beds,
And my beds were dry beds on drought-stricken ground,
Hard beds and soft beds, and wide beds and narrow –
For my beds were strange beds the wide world round.

And the old hag seemed to ponder
(‘Twas my mother told me so),
And she said that I would wander
Where but few would think to go.
He will fly the haunts of tailors,
He will cross the ocean wide,
For his fathers, they were sailors
All on his good father’s side.

Behind me, before me, Oh! my roads are stormy
The thunder of skies and the sea’s sullen sound,
The coaster or liner, the English or foreign,
The state-room or steerage the wide world round.

And the old hag she seemed troubled
As she bent above the bed,
He will dream things and he’ll see things
To come true when he is dead.
He will see things all too plainly,
And his fellows will deride,
For his mothers they were gipsies
All on his good mother’s side.

And my dreams are strange dreams, are day dreams, are grey dreams,
And my dreams are wild dreams, and old dreams and new;
They haunt me and daunt me with fears of the morrow –
My brothers they doubt me – but my dreams come true.

And so I was born of fathers
From where ice-bound harbours are
Men whose strong limbs never rested
And whose blue eyes saw afar.
Till, for gold, one left the ocean,
Seeking over plain and hill;
And so I was born of mothers
Whose deep minds were never still.

I rest not, ’tis best not, the world is a wide one
And, caged for an hour, I pace to and fro;
I see things and dree things and plan while I’m sleeping,
I wander for ever and dream as I go.

I have stood by Table Mountain
On the Lion at Capetown,
And I watched the sunset fading
From the roads that I marked down,
And I looked out with my brothers
From the heights behind Bombay,
Gazing north and west and eastward,
Over roads I’ll tread some day.

For my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways,
And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low;
I’m at home and at ease on a track that I know not,
And restless and lost on a road that I know.


Source: Poetry Verse dot com


The Wander-light - meaning Summary
A Life Shaped by Wandering

The poem presents a first-person portrait of inherited restlessness and lifelong wandering. The speaker traces roots to sailors and gypsies, recalls a tented childhood, and accepts travel as destiny. Dreams and visions haunt him but often prove true. He is at ease on unknown tracks and uneasy at home, embracing a perpetual movement that ranges from bush camps to foreign ports. The poem reflects Lawson’s bush-born, nomadic background.


*****

"Wander light" can have a few meanings: in folklore, it refers to a ghost-like light, like a will-o'-the-wisp; for an artist like Sue Miller, it represents the magical, soft light seen while walking through trees; and in other contexts, it can symbolize a journey of discovery and finding oneself, as in the title of a book or poem about travel and intentional living. 


In folklore
Ghostly light: In folklore, a "wanderlight" is a will-o'-the-wisp, a natural phenomenon like a flickering light seen over bogs and swamps at night.

Misleading or guiding: These lights are often thought to be spirits that either mislead travelers or guide them to a specific path. The name is a Dutch translation of will-o'-the-wisp ("dwaallicht"). 


In art and literature
A specific quality of light: For an artist, "wander light" can describe the magical, soft, and moving light that filters through trees, creating a quiet and meaningful atmosphere.

A literary theme: It can refer to a journey of personal discovery, exploration, and finding one's purpose. This can be found in titles like the book Wander Light: Notes on Carrying Less and Seeing More or Henry Lawson's poem The Wander Light, which explore the themes of travel, simplicity, and finding clarity. 


As a metaphor
Spiritual or internal journey: The term can also represent a person's spiritual path or inner journey to find meaning and purpose.

"Wanderlust": It can be confused with the word "wanderlust," which means a strong desire to travel, although "wander light" itself has a more specific and less common meaning. 

19 October 2025

ONE THOUSAND MEN ARE WALKING

 

Lift from Wonders You've Never Seen Before 

(Richard Smith- Admin)

Powerful.. Joshua Dyer (aged 14) was tasked at school to write a poem for Remembrance Day. An hour later (without any help) he produced this..



ONE THOUSAND MEN ARE WALKING

One thousand men are walking

Walking side by side

Singing songs from home

The spirit as their guide

They walk toward the light milord,

they walk towards the sun

they smoke and laugh and smile together

no foes to outrun.

These men live on forever

in the hearts of those they saved

a nation truly grateful

for the path of peace they paved.

They march as friends and comrades

but they do not march for war

step closer to salvation

a tranquil steady corps

the meadows lit with golden beams

a beacon for the brave

the emerald grass untrampled

a reward for what they gave.

They dream of those they left behind

and know they dream of them

forever in those poppy fields

there walks one thousand men

Joshua Dyer 2019 (aged 14)

Lest we forget

This has to be shared. An incredible poem from 14 year old Joshua Dyer.

Credit goes to respective owner

4 October 2025

RUMI

Lifted from Sufia Jamil with due credit and respect ...






Happy Birthday to our Beloved Rumi

Mevlana Jalaluddin Balkhi, widely known as Rumi, is celebrated as one of the world’s greatest poets, mystics, and thinkers. He was born on September 30, 1207, in Balkh (in present-day Afghanistan). Through his timeless works, he earned a cherished place not only in Persian and Tajik literature, but also in the shared treasury of world culture.

Rumi placed love at the very center of existence. He taught that it is only through love that the soul can reach spiritual perfection and draw closer to God. His verses overflow with kindness, truth, and purity, guiding every reader toward goodness and Universal Love.

Today, Maulana’s fame is truly global. His works, translated into countless languages, continue to inspire and are cherished across Europe, America, and the East. Like a radiant star in the sky of enlightenment, his words illuminate the soul and fill hearts with love.

 For this, Rumi will always remain one of the greatest voices of Humanity. .

Respectfully,