Allspirit

Tag: god

  • The Hymn of Man

    Kahlil Gibran

    I was,
    And I am.
    So shall I be to the end of time,
    For I am without end.

    I have cleft the vast spaces of the infinite, and
    taken flight in the world of fantasy, and drawn nigh
    to the circle of light on high.
    Yet behold me a captive of matter.
    I have hearkened to the teachings of Confucius,
    and listened to the wisdom of Brahma, and sat
    beside the Buddha beneath the tree of knowledge.
    Behold me now contending with ignorance and
    unbelieving.

    I was upon Sinai when the Lord showed Himself
    to Moses. By the Jordan I beheld the Nazarene’s
    miracles. In Medina I heard the words of the
    Apostle of Arabia.

    Behold me now a prisoner of doubt.
    I have seen Babylon’s strength and Egypt’s glory
    and the greatness of Greece. My eyes cease not
    upon the smallness and poverty of their works.
    I have sat with the witch of Endor and the priests
    of Assyria and the prophets of Palestine, and I cease
    not to chant the truth.

    I have learned the wisdom that descended on
    India, and gained mastery over poetry that welled
    from the Arabian’s heart, and hearkened to the
    music of people from the West.
    Yet am I blind and see not; my ears are stopped
    and I do not hear.

    I have borne the harshness of unsatiable
    conquerors, and felt the oppression of tyrants and the
    bondage of the powerful.
    Yet am I strong to do battle with the days.
    All this have I heard and seen, and I am yet a
    child. In truth shall I hear and see the deeds of
    youth, and grow old and attain perfection and
    return to God.

    I was,
    And I am.
    So shall I be to the end of time,
    For I am without end.

    Read more  Kahlil Gibran poems

    Index of poets on Allspirit

     

  • this and that

     

    Yosy Flug

    this and that

    This
    Anonymous passerby
    This
    Ragged long haired freak
    Asking wordlessly for lunch leftovers
    This snobby lady
    Walking the poodle
    This
    Murderous terrorist
    Cornered in an ambush
    And this bunch of commandos closing
    On a kill
    This
    Crawling distorted legless beggar
    This
    Haughty faced policeman
    This
    Transvestite whore
    Selling her wares at the sea front
    This
    Smiling toothless vendor
    All of them
    Without exception
    Each and every one
    And you too
    Is
    A perfect to the core
    Image
    Of the one and only
    All knowing
    And merciful
    Almighty
    God.

    There is no other.

    _()_
    yosy

  • Ask those who know…

     

    Yunus Emre

    Ask those who know,
    what’s this soul within the flesh?
    Reality’s own power.
    What blood fills these veins?

    Thought is an errand boy,
    fear a mine of worries.
    These sighs are love’s clothing.
    Who is the Khan on the throne?

    Give thanks for His unity.
    He created when nothing existed.
    And since we are actually nothing,
    what are possessions, houses, shops?

    God sent us here
    to come and see the world.
    This world itself is not everlasting.
    What are all of Solomon’s riches?

    Ask Yunus and Taptuk
    what the world means to them.
    The world won’t last.
    What are You? What am I?

     

     

  • Holy Sonnets – XIV

     

    John Donne

    Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you
    As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend,
    That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow mee, and bend
    Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
    I, like an usurpt towne, to another due,
    Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
    Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
    But is captiv’d , and proves weake or untrue.
    Yet dearely I love you, and would be loved faine,
    But am betroth’d unto your enemie:
    Divorce mee, untie, or breake that knot againe,
    Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
    Except you enthrall mee, never shall be free,
    Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

  • I never saw a moor…

     

    Emily Dickinson

    I never saw a moor,
    I never saw the sea;
    Yet know I how the heather looks,
    And what a wave must be.

    I never spoke with God,
    Nor visited in heaven;
    Yet certain am I of the spot
    As if the chart were given.

  • No Coward Soul Is Mine

     

    Emily Bronte

    No coward soul is mine,
    No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:
    I see Heaven’s glories shine,
    And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

    O God within my breast,
    Almighty, ever-present Deity!
    Life–that in me has rest,
    As I–undying Life–have Power in Thee!

    Vain are the thousand creeds
    That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;
    Worthless as withered weeds,
    Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

    To waken doubt in one
    Holding so fast by thine infinity;
    So surely anchored on
    The steadfast rock of immortality.

    With wide-embracing love
    Thy spirit animates eternal years,
    Pervades and broods above,
    Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
    Though earth and man were gone,
    And suns and universes ceased to be,
    And Thou wert left alone,
    Every existence would exist in Thee.
    There is not room for Death,
    Nor atom that his might could render void:
    Thou–Thou art Being and Breath,
    And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

  • Sonnets from the Portuguese – 31 to 35

    Elizabeth Barrett Browning

    XXXI

    Thou comest! all is said without a word.
    I sit beneath thy looks, as children do
    In the noon-sun, with souls that tremble through
    Their happy eyelids from an unaverred
    Yet prodigal inward joy. Behold, I erred
    In that last doubt! and yet I cannot rue
    The sin most, but the occasion–that we two
    Should for a moment stand unministered
    By a mutual presence. Ah, keep near and close,
    Thou dovelike help! and, when my fears would rise,
    With thy broad heart serenely interpose:
    Brood down with thy divine sufficiencies
    These thoughts which tremble when bereft of those,
    Like callow birds left desert to the skies.

     XXXII

    The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
    To love me, I looked forward to the moon
    To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
    And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
    Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
    And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
    For such man’s love!–more like an out-of-tune
    Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
    To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
    Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
    I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
    A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
    ‘Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,–
    And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.

     XXXIII

    Yes, call me by my pet-name! let me hear
    The name I used to run at, when a child,
    From innocent play, and leave the cowslips piled,
    To glance up in some face that proved me dear
    With the look of its eyes. I miss the clear
    Fond voices which, being drawn and reconciled
    Into the music of Heaven’s undefiled,
    Call me no longer. Silence on the bier,
    While I call God–call God!–So let thy mouth
    Be heir to those who are now exanimate.
    Gather the north flowers to complete the south,
    And catch the early love up in the late.
    Yes, call me by that name,–and I, in truth,
    With the same heart, will answer and not wait.

     XXXIV

    With the same heart, I said, I’ll answer thee
    As those, when thou shalt call me by my name–
    Lo, the vain promise! is the same, the same,
    Perplexed and ruffled by life’s strategy?
    When called before, I told how hastily
    I dropped my flowers or brake off from a game,
    To run and answer with the smile that came
    At play last moment, and went on with me
    Through my obedience. When I answer now,
    I drop a grave thought, break from solitude;
    Yet still my heart goes to thee–ponder how–
    Not as to a single good, but all my good!
    Lay thy hand on it, best one, and allow
    That no child’s foot could run fast as this blood.

     XXXV

    If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
    And be all to me? Shall I never miss
    Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss
    That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange,
    When I look up, to drop on a new range
    Of walls and floors, another home than this?
    Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
    Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?
    That’s hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,
    To conquer grief, tries more, as all things prove;
    For grief indeed is love and grief beside.
    Alas, I have grieved sol am hard to love.
    Yet love me–wilt thou? Open thine heart wide,
    And fold within the wet wings of thy dove.