Oh,little man your stay was short You never knew this world of distress, But you brought loving comfort, To where God chose to bless. In our quiet times together alone, I shall always cherish until that day When death shall find me and atone, And we both are home to stay. I shall await and always look forward, For looking back brings only tears And you are now safe with the Lord, Awaiting when I finish my years. Your joyful, playful spirit was such a contagious one, A minute in your presence was bursting with fun. You were so amazing and beautiful in so many ways, Sincere, giving, and loving through all of your days.
I wish I could hug you right now, why did you have to go? These days are hard without you, but this you should know, When the day comes to join you in that heavenly place, A beautiful smile for the ages will be on my face!
I am home in heaven, dear ones; Oh, so happy and so bright. There is a perfect joy and beauty in this everlasting light. All the pain and grief is over, every restless tossing passed; I am now at peace forever, safely home in heaven at last. Did you wonder I so calmly Trod the valley of the shade? Then you must not grieve so sorely, for I love you dearly still.
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- Apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction - Wikipedia;
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- Poetry | Over The Maze.
- Famous Poems About Death;
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- The Walt Whitman Archive.
There is work still waiting for you, so you must not idly stand. When that work is all completed, He will gently call you home; Oh, the rapture of that meeting; Oh, the joy to see you come! I wish I could hold you In my arms once more, That just for a moment, God would reopen the door,. I wish I could see Your innocent smile, Just one more time, For just a little while,. When will I get to see My little angel in gold, And fill the place in my heart That you will forever hold?
When will I gaze once more Into that precious young face, And kiss your sweet dimple, That made my heart race?
Maybe then I would have held You just a little longer And maybe prayed for God above To make me just a little stronger. I so wish, my sweet child, I could hold you once more, And that my heart still felt happy, Not so shredded and torn.
I Wasn’t One of the Six Million: And What Is My Life Span? Open Closed Open
I know you will forever be with me, A permanent piece of my heart, Forever and ever, my son, We will never truly be apart. If only… The question that we face in our time of sorrow, So much life now gone, with no time to borrow. If only… The wretched emptiness could just be filled And we could once again begin the life we started to build.
If only… We could move on from the brutal pain For caught in this darkness, we are no longer sane. If only… Two little words… with such deep meaning now Our children have passed and left us questioning how. If only… Such pain and sorrow did not exist And we did not have to deal with the tears we now resist.
If only… There was a way to go back and change the past For now we bear this burden of the child-loss mask.
Jorge Luis Borges
If only… The world knew what we deal with every day Or there were words enough to make it all ok. If only… We knew how to move on with a simple real smile Without the fear that tragedy will strike again at any given mile. If only… The words that echo in our hearts now, every single day As we pull ourselves together and we try to find our way. In the bitter waves of woe, Beaten and tossed about, By the sullen winds that blow, From the desolate shores of doubt, Where the anchors that faith has cast Are dragging in the gale, I am quietly holding fast To the things that cannot fail.
Are there angels hidden among us, Who,in our midst do holy missions ; Whereby they create never a fuss, Delivering to the Lord our petitions. Such eyes betray a heavenly soul; Flood gates of such innocent love, That capture hearts as devine toll, For a glimpse of what waits above. Sweet honey surely filled her veins While a golden rose was her heart, And with the angels she now reigns, Protected there since being apart. You think I am gone forevermore, How wonderfully wrong you are, For I am the same as before And have not gone that far.
My world now consists of love, There is no greed or sorrow, So when you join me above, You leave every sad tomorrow. I promise you this is so true And every word the Bible gives, So find some loving things to do, And know that this soul still lives.
May seeds of peace find a home in your heart, May forgiveness help mend each broken part, For you are worthy when the last sunset falls To cross that bridge when the trumpet calls. So be not of sorrow for those gone ahead, They are more happy than we who are dead, For most of us fail to learn how to live, The secret is to open your heart and just give,. I took His hand when I heard Him call; I turned my back and left it all. I could not stay another day, to laugh, to love, to work or play.
If my parting has left a void, then fill it with remembered joys. Then something Might start to rub off on you Of that true elegance. The sky is a suspended blue ocean.
The Labyrinth of Memory - Nordic Women's Literature
The stars are the fish That swim. The planets are the white whales I sometimes hitch a ride on, And the sun and all light Have forever fused themselves Into my heart and upon my skin. Thus that radiant sphere Constantly pours its energy Upon this earth As does He from behind The veil. And God, knowing all our thoughts — And all our thoughts are innocent steps on the path- Then addressed my heart. I felt in need of a great pilgrimage So I sat still for three days And God came to me.
This Labyrinth of Numb Disorder
Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive. Jump into experience while you are alive! Think … and think … while you are alive. The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic just because the body is rotten — that is all fantasy. What is found now is found then.
Download PDF Life’s Labyrinth: Poems for the Broken Road
If you find nothing now, You will simply end up with an apartment in the city of Death. If you make love with the divine now, in the next life You will have the face of satisfied desire. Kabir says this: When the Guest is being searched for, it is the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does all the work. Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity. I said to the wanting-creature inside me: What is this river you want to cross?
There are no travellers on the river-road, and no road. Do you see anyone moving about on that bank, or nesting? There is no river at all, and no boat, and no boatman. There is no tow rope either, and no one to pull it. There is no ground, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford! And there is no body, and no mind! Do you believe there is some place that will make the soul less thirsty?
In that great absence you will find nothing. Be strong then, and enter into your own body; there you have a solid place for your feet. Think about it carefully! Kabir says this: just throw away all thoughts of imaginary things, and stand firm in that which you are. Are Looking for Me?
- Stolen Child.
- The Labyrinth of Memory;
- Il fascino discreto degli stronzi (Ingrandimenti) (Italian Edition)?
- Volkswagen Blues.
Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is against yours. When you really look for me, you will see me instantly — you will find me in the tiniest house of time. Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath. The Bhakti Path The bhakti path… The bhakti path winds in a delicate way. On this path there is no asking and no not asking. The ego simply disappears the moment you touch him. The joy of looking for him is so immense that you just dive in, and coast around like a fish in the water. If anyone needs a head, the lover leaps up to offer his.
No-one ever asked me did I have a purpose No-one ever wondered was there anything I might need For there was nothing I could not love. As I would question all, come all who can; Come old, necessitous, half-mounted man; And bring beauty's blind rambling celebrant; The red man the juggler sent Through God-forsaken meadows; Mrs. French, Gifted with so fine an ear; The man drowned in a bog's mire, When mocking Muses chose the country wench. Did all old men and women, rich and poor, Who trod upon these rocks or passed this door, Whether in public or in secret rage As I do now against old age?
But I have found an answer in those eyes That are impatient to be gone; Go therefore; but leave Hanrahan, For I need all his mighty memories.