When Great Trees Fall
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Mots clés life poetry writing writers peace soul death poem poets trees souls poet poems american-writers maya-angelou i-shall-not-be-moved when-great-trees-fall
With my ninth mind I resurrect my first
and dance slow to the music of my soul made new.
Mots clés music poetry dancing inspirational-quotes psychology spirituality souls paranormal parapsychology rebirth resurrection modern-authors
It is impossible to see how good work might be accomplished by people who think that our life in this world either signifies nothing or has only a negative significance.
If, on the other hand, we believe that we are living souls, God's dust and God's breath, acting our parts among other creatures all made of the same dust and breath as ourselves; and if we understand that we are free, within the obvious limits of moral human life, to do evil or good to ourselves and to the other creatures - then all our acts have a supreme significance. If it is true that we are living souls and morally free, then all of us are artists. All of us are makers, within mortal terms and limits, of our lives, of one another's lives, of things we need and use...
If we think of ourselves as living souls, immortal creatures, living in the midst of a Creation that is mostly mysterious, and if we see that everything we make or do cannot help but have an everlasting significance for ourselves, for others, and for the world, then we see why some religious teachers have understood work as a form of prayer...
Work connects us both to Creation and to eternity. (pg. 316, Christianity and the Survival of Creation)
Mots clés life art nature god work prayer creation artists mystery souls
Even friends need private spaces, if only within the depths of their own souls, where no one else is allowed to intrude.
Mary BaloghMots clés friends souls private intrude
All souls can earn IMMORTALITY.
The Creators have IMMORTALITY.
The Creators are the' ONLY' ONES'
To award IMMORTALITY...
FROM MY BOOK: War between Souls over First Universe Justice Awaits
Mots clés books war universe souls immortality supernatural creators ensightful
Better lose your life than your soul…
Louisa May AlcottMots clés life souls louisa-may-alcott jo-s-boys
I wonder what a soul…a person's soul…would look like,' said Priscilla dreamily.
'Like that, I should think,' answered Anne, pointing to a radiance of sifted sunlight streaming through a birch tree. 'Only with shape and features of course. I like to fancy souls as being made of light. And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers…and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea…and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn.
Mots clés souls l-m-montgomery
I read somewhere once that souls were like flowers,' said Priscilla.
'Then your soul is a golden narcissus,' said Anne, 'and Diana's is like a red, red rose. Jane's is an apple blossom, pink and wholesome and sweet.'
'And your own is a white violet, with purple streaks in its heart,' finished Priscilla.
Mots clés flowers souls l-m-montgomery
Animals, like us, are living souls. They are not things. They are not objects. Neither are they human. Yet they mourn. They love. They dance. They suffer. They know the peaks and chasms of being.
Gary KowalskiIt is said that love does not last, that it is just a momentary spell cast upon your soul by some higher power, or a small trick of the mind. If this were all true, there would be no story to tell.
Natalie ValdesMots clés love tricks power mind story book souls nirvana vampires spells
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