Amigo Absoluto

"When any current moment is over it immediately begins to lose all shape and color, like a fish pulled out of water and left to die on land. Its colors pale while it flops helplessly around until its life energy ebbs beyond a certain point and it dies. However there are some moments that refuse to die. As they weaken, they stumble and lurch through the Now, wreaking havoc. Colliding with lives and events, they leave their mark, aroma, their scales, on everything they touch " —  Jonathan Carroll from THE GHOST IN LOVE 

The feelings that hurt most,  the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are. ~Fernando Pessoa 

Round about the city rests. The illuminated streets grow Quiet, and coaches rush along, adorned with torches. Men go home to rest, filled with the day's pleasures; Busy minds weigh up profit and loss contentedly At home. The busy marketplace comes to rest, Vacant now of flowers and grapes and crafts. But the music of strings sounds in distant gardens: Perhaps lovers play there, or a lonely man thinks About distant friends, and about his own youth. Rushing fountains flow by fragrant flower beds, Bells ring softly in the twilight air, and a watchman Calls out the hour, mindful of the time. Now a breeze rises and touches the crest of the grove — Look how the moon, like the shadow of our earth, Also rises stealthily! Phantastical night comes, Full of stars, unconcerned probably about us —          Astonishing night shines, a stranger among humans, Sadly over the mountain tops, in splendor. Friedrich Holderlin

There's this chain tied to me A chain of broken memories memories of love and hate, memories I can't replace, memories I would love to change, so I would no longer feel the pain of these memories, broken memories that linger, linger in my dreams And they come back right in front of me, broken memories that I hate, I just want them out of my face, broken memories, please get out of my mind your killing me, bringing back broken memories, I want to destroy, repeating, repeating, always repeating, these painful broken memories, A chain of broken memories will forever be tied to me. Matthew Petranovich

When you find the one Who's, Broken pieces unexpectedly and perfectly .... Match your broken pieces, You catch your breath.... In undeniable shock; At how well they fit together.... Without any effort at all, It's as simple and as complicated as that. U.Known

Live your Story... "A story is alive, as you and I are. It is rounded by muscle and sinew. Rushed with blood. Layered with skin, both rough and smooth. At its core lies soft marrow of hard, white bone. A story beats with the heart of every person who has ever strained ears to listen. On the breath of the storyteller, it soars. Until its images and deeds become so real you can see them in the air, shimmering like oases on the horizon line. A story can fly like a bee, so straight and swift you catch only the hum of its passing. Or move so slowly it seems motionless, curled in upon itself like a snake in the sun. It can vanish like smoke before the wind. Linger like perfume in the nose. Change with every telling, yet always remain the same.” ~Cameron Dokey

Butterflies, Rainbows and Unicorns Wings of golden yellow, orange and red and black Fluttered past my lazy body as I laid upon my back I watched it flitter about flowers in splendid bloom As Spring turned into Summer on the 21st day of June Then it landed on a flower, whose likes I'd never seen Multi-colored petals from a stalk of aquamarine And when it flew away, a rainbow trailed behind Its colors shining so brightly it nearly made me blind I got up to chase the butterfly following the rainbow trail Across the flowered meadow into a strange new vale When I stopped to catch my breath and took a look around A beautiful white unicorn is the sight I found She drank from a sparkling stream of water pure and clear She startled just a little bit as I started to get near I reached out my hand, to stroke her silken mane When I woke up in the meadow from the drops of falling rain Copyright © Joe Flach

No Name By Emily Berry What can I tell you? It was a summer that seemed to be making history — their personal history — almost before it began, and they stood back slightly, still in it, but observing it, saying “the summer this,” “the summer that,” all the while it was going on. They became obsessed with a fountain, for example, one they walked past each day, how abundantly it would reach upwards and yet be pouring back down itself the whole time — all winter this fountain had been dry, not saying a word. What more can I tell you? Oh, everything — like how they would walk home in the evenings when the light was soft, anything bad sliding off them, and they would feel owned, completely owned, in a good way, by the air, which would touch them constantly, sometimes urgently, sometimes lightly, just to let them know it was there, and they would think maybe this is what being alive is, when they saw how complicated a tree was and how it wanted them looking at it and sayin...

« Life While-You-Wait. Performance without rehearsal. Body without alterations. Head without premeditation. I know nothing of the role I play. I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it. I have to guess on the spot just what this play’s all about. Ill-prepared for the privilege of living, I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands. I improvise, although I loathe improvisation. I trip at every step over my own ignorance. I can’t conceal my hayseed manners. My instincts are for happy histrionics. Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more. Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel. Words and impulses you can’t take back, stars you’ll never get counted, your character like a raincoat you button on the run — the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness. If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance, or repeat a single Thursday that has passed! But here comes Friday with a script I haven’t seen. Is it fair, I ask (my voic...

"If we're honest with ourselves Eventually we can realize That as we view the world We compartmentalize. We all collect little truths Like shiny puzzle pieces And carefully assemble them Along the complex creases That form our perception And define what we've believed. Yet when we're mistaken We hope judgment is reprieved. But what all of us should do Interacting with others each day Is to ask to see their puzzles And try to see the world their way." © Ted Stahl - digital mixed media and layered fractals

I am unaffected by what people think or don't think of me. Say or don't say about me. Love or do not love about me, because I don't get fuel from external sources. I don't get fuel from people. If I did, I would live by their expectations and die by their rejection. That's not how I choose to live my life. Instead, I choose to live my life mindfully, with deep understanding, compassion, acceptance, forgiveness, and love.~ art: Karol bak

You, darkness, of whom I am born — I love you more than the flame that limits the world to the circle it illumines and excludes all the rest. But the darkness embraces everything: shapes and shadows, creatures and me, people, nations — just as they are. It lets me imagine a great presence stirring beside me. I believe in the night. - Rainer Maria Rilke

Maybe being powerful means to be fragile. ~~ Ai Weiwei Photo Credit: Þórunn Þorsteinsdóttir

Let Your Light Shine By Curtis Johnson It’s true that we are different, but life can be tough for all of us No matter who we are, we all shall one day bite the dust So take your liberty to debate and disagree, to fuss and discuss Let’s exercise our freedom of speech and argue if we must There are some things we must stand up against and fight It’s not just a fight to prove who’s wrong and who’s right It’s one way to supply the world with salt and light It’s also another way to separate the night from the day It’s another way to keep the darkness in its place It’s another way to give hope to the human race I tell you, we must be brave, bold, and not run away and hide Never giving chance and opportunity for an evil and rising tide May our voices be heard, never giving sway to the absurd May we step forward and cast our vote while there is still hope Cj06182015 Curtisj Johnson

You will see me when it's light, My colors dazzle and delight. I'm ancient in the world you live And if you ask me, I shall give... The wisdom that is mine, is yours A set of keys for all the doors You'll need to open, one by one Until your earthly work is done. With love and magic, you shall weave Together all that you believe. To form a blessed soul connection And find a path of new direction. Take my energy deep within And feel the transformation begin. On my healing powers, you can rely For I am you, Sweet Dragonfly! Janet K. Rauch

"In the East everything is done calmly, with that balance of which even the memory  has been lost in the West; we run and we are short of breath, they have time to forget time, it is the secret to live  with ourselves again, the marvelous faculty  that allows us to remain poised between us and others,  between the concrete and the abstract. " by Giuseppe Tucci

„The season of autumn is the very essence of comfort.  Everything about it feels so safe, so warm.  A knit blanket, hot tea, a good book. Crisp wind blowing through the leaves outside your bedroom window.  It feels like something out of a movie.“

He’s Leaving My nine       is your noon;                    I’m just packing now— your winter,       my June.                    wish I could pack you. by Lang Leav Painting by Monet

You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth. ― William W. Purkey 

Nature the gentlest mother is, Impatient of no child, The feeblest of the waywardest. Her admonition mild In forest and the hill By traveller be heard, Restraining rampant squirrel Or too impetuous bird. How fair her conversation A summer afternoon, Her household her assembly; And when the sun go down, Her voice among the aisles Incite the timid prayer Of the minutest cricket, The most unworthy flower. When all the children sleep, She turns as long away As will suffice to light her lamps, Then bending from the sky With infinite affection An infiniter care, Her golden finger on her lip, Wills silence everywhere. Emily Dickinson

I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears; And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine. And he knew that it was mine, And into my garden stole When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see My foe outstretched beneath the tree. William Blake

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausages at a go Or only bread and pickle for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shock...

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it careful round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable . . . The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers . . . of love is Hell. ~ C. S. Lewis ~ "The Four Loves” via  Forever Moments  

Gone to the Unseen At last you have departed and gone to the Unseen. What marvelous route did you take from this world? Beating your wings and feathers, you broke free from this cage. Rising up to the sky you attained the world of the soul. You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman. Then you heard the drummer's call and flew beyond space and time. As a lovesick nightingale, you flew among the owls. Then came the scent of the rosegarden and you flew off to meet the Rose. The wine of this fleeting world caused your head to ache. Finally you joined the tavern of Eternity. Like an arrow, you sped from the bow and went straight for the bull's eye of bliss. This phantom world gave you false signs But you turned from the illusion and journeyed to the land of truth. You are now the Sun - what need have you for a crown? You have vanished from this world - what need have you to tie your robe? I've heard that you can barely see your soul. But why look ...

Every now and then, when the world sits just right, a gentle breath of heaven fills my soul with delight, and I sigh ~ as sun brings its morning, its gift of warmth to chase the chill, from the crook of night's arms arising o'er that far hill, and I know ~ heaven smiles, and I smile, too, though life can be hard while dreams are few ~ yet, every now and then, when this world sits just right, a gentle breath of heaven fills my soul with delight, and I see ~ the turning of a leaf dancing in an autumn sun, and brilliant shades of crimson glowing when a day is done, and I sigh ~ when a rose stands alone, thriving where no others thrive, a rare bouquet of one still strong, still alive, and I know ~ even in shadows heaven catches, unaware, those blinded by visions of hatred and despair, and I see ~ a promise of tomorrow in that wind around the bend, as it carries a dream of hope with no hate or pain to tend, and I pray ~ when every now and then,...

This Little Island By James Longenbach 1 Outside the room where you have lived a long time Are other rooms, another building, just like yours. Each night a ship sails past, wider than the building, taller than the highest church. And though the passengers would like to visit the city, No one in the city ever boards the ship. Would you? Each night this spectacle is seen by you. The street surveyed, The air inhaled. Grapes from the west, Cinnamon from the east —  If I’ve employed too liberally the passive voice, Remember it’s the thoughts, The feelings that are of consequence here, Not the one who feels them.   2 Shall we walk to the market? You could walk there blind, like Gloucester, smelling your way. Shall we stop for coffee? Which café? The one that’s commandeered by women, delicate cups? Or the one where men preside, baristas in tuxedos, the coffee rich enough for rainy days? A window, the desk, a lamp, and a chair —  You’ve liked the room, y...

I don't know why people choose to go walking at night, especially to be frightened at my first sight. Nowadays, I tend to only venture outside in the early hours because I enjoy Elvaston Castle's trees, shrubs, and flowers. Strangely, my form cannot be seen in the light of day, that is why the moon shows me in a translucent way. Lovers and poachers who happen to get a glimpse of me, soon realise that there is somewhere else they would rather be. I have been trapped in this wonderful place for quite some time. Fortunately the castle and estate are still a favourite of mine. When I was alive and well I walked the estate almost everyday, and I now find it impossible to keep past routines away. Occasionally, I do attract drunkards and the inquisitive, who try to capture a glimpse of a transparent negative. Some who have heard about me; ‘The Lady in Grey' come to take a peek, but very quickly go away. Orlando Belo Murdoch Tower, Caerlaverock Castle, Dumfri...

Distance means very little when Friendship means more. Life is sometimes strange, life in this modern age But some of the people I class as my closest friends I have never physically met Yet you really know me. We have bonded globally Share our lives daily This tricky dichotomy Of soul to soul meetings, yet without place But you bring joy to my heart, when I see your face. Some of the people who talk to me Know more about me than my own family We share, music, art and poetry And we rejoice in each other’s company Hold secrets and heart eternally. When the dark clouds of life roll in As they do periodically, in the air of inevitability We share our troubles as the highs Dry each other’s tears whilst wishing on stars in our version of the same sky Some of my friends live 5 hours from me Not separated by sea but not close enough for a cup of tea So, we facetime with mugs at the ready We face everything together, so troubles don’t get to heavy Some of my friends live...

In the gentle and pleasant bosom of the vast nature The mighty and devouring sea is defiant and turbulent in stature, on this day the continuous flamboyant waves are extremely angry And the people are afraid of such fury. Far away in the deep The fishermen are thinking about their fate, As they are listening the waves' threat; They know they may come back or not, This is always the gravest thought, But this is not the horror of a day Year after year there is no ray. ANJANDEV ROY

I am homesick for a place I am not sure even exists. One where my heart is full. My body loved. And my soul understood. ~ Unknown Art by Claudia Tremblay ...

How to Love After stepping into the world again, there is that question of how to love, how to bundle yourself against the frosted morning— the crunch of icy grass underfoot, the scrape of cold wipers along the windshield— and convert time into distance. What song to sing down an empty road as you begin your morning commute? And is there enough in you to see, really see, the three wild turkeys crossing the street with their featherless heads and stilt-like legs in search of a morning meal? Nothing to do but hunker down, wait for them to safely cross. As they amble away, you wonder if they want to be startled back into this world. Maybe you do, too, waiting for all this to give way to love itself, to look into the eyes of another and feel something— the pleasure of a new lover in the unbroken night, your wings folded around him, on the other side of this ragged January, as if a long sleep has ended. Copyright @ 2014 by January Gill O’Neil.

"Just breathing and smiling can make us very happy,  because when we breathe consciously we recover ourselves  completely and encounter life in the present moment." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh By Marij Van Vegchel Stone-art Buddha

The bubbles in the air, Float aimlessly throughout the atmosphere. They dance their invisible dance, With an audience, that doesn't own eyesight. The bubbles in the air, May be too miniscule For the heart's content. They might not excite the senses, But they are always there. The bubbles in the air, Rise and fall, Feeding and nurturing, And bringing back to life, The many breathless hearts, That have suffocated in the emptiness of countless days and nights. The bubbles in the air, You may have taken for granted, For they aren't flamboyant Unlike some circus show master, But we haven't forgotten, And we will hold on to them, With every breath we take. Carlos Gutierrez

How could one imagine what it sounded like when starting to learn a foreign language, merely from the books, and had never been to the place where they speak that tongue, nor had heard it spoken at any time otherwise? Might one still know, just by way of approximating imaginations, how it sounded like? 'But it's only so in your imagination! ' the voices of your close-by, echoes of mind, come reverberating back to your ears from the ignorant world. By any means, could it be true what they'll be telling you, that you're imagining things - only - and this would have nothing to do with reality? ! I, for one, can't believe anyone to have a right to say he or she be a sole owner of mind, though I do hold there's some secret about mind. Does any scientist know what it is? - Are we then well-advised, therefore, better not to be telling anyone about the greater things, in for being cooked in mind, but not yet full done? ? - I,...

“When you consider Things like the Stars…  Our Affairs don't seem to Matter very Much, do They?”  Virginia Woolf (1882-1941)

I wish I understood the beauty in leaves falling. To whom are we beautiful as we go? ~~ David Ignatow

How I love forgotten places. The alleyway that no one travels, the intimate shelter of the caves, the rumorous gorge background where water stagnates and insects weave misty islands in the air. To lie on the parapet of ancient bridges, coated with brambles and litter and listen to how the bees buzz in the fragrant calm of the rosemary. Approach the mystery of the houses where they inhabit only the roses. fading slowly on the ground. Light penetration in the thicket of secret places, where the passage avid men do not disturb the peace of the pebbles, or the holiday parade of the lavender by the paths. And, crossing the edge of the afternoon, take the road back feeling that suddenly accompanies me the empty plenitude of the forgotten Susana Benet De «Lo olvidado» (2015)

I have travelled far and wide, I have seen the world, every conflict, Every aggression, pride and every side, I don't know who I agree with, Maybe nobody, but I trust myself, I am not a ghost yet, I wake with the sun, And I move, never stopping, But I never run: I face fears head-on, But it can be a dangerous world, People can attack and become paranoid, People can lie and scheme and laugh, But I don't let them, for I am just the viewer, Like a person watching a film, And whether it is a horror, drama or romance, I don't know, but I do love romance the best, There has to be a good to every bad, Things must be created equal, Man, woman, boy, girl, all on this world, And we are all the same deep down, No one wants gossip spread around town. I spray perfume and use my iPhone, Hoping I fit in with the rest, And I jump from bus-to-bus, plane-to-train, I have a whole wide world to see, And I want the world to know me, For I have a suitcase of memories, ...

Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love – that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one’s very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot Autumnal forest with houses by Walter Moras (1856-1925)

Oh yes this is absolutely true your smile is the most gorgeous and is filled with promises of love and dreams from you I love to see you smile cause I smile when you smile and if you laugh I can’t help but laugh too everyday I love to see you smile and if I only get to see you for a little while you have made my day with that gorgeous smile! Sunprincess

Watch the leaves turn yellow, red and brown Changing the sky too And putting on autumn's crown And letting in the joy And happiness of sunshine And filling the world with The light and warmth of wine watch the leaves turn Yellow, red and brown And reflecting serenity and peace And putting on autumn's crown And spreading joy and passion And enthusiasm and hope And clearing away the dust And all pain and mope watch the leaves turn Yellow, red and brown And creating a new life And putting on autumn's crown And showing you how to reach The bright horizon afar And nature glowing with colors A twinkling like a star Watch the leaves turn Yellow, red and brown Reflecting God's blessings And putting on autumn's crown. Seema Chowdhury

'It’s so beautiful, to not know, to never know, what’s going to happen next, what thought will pop up, what fizzly alive sensation will dance, what sound will arise out of nowhere, what word will be spoken, how this bodymind will move or be moved. Even though we sometimes forget, or do not admit it, we all live here, as we did when we were children, in this limitless space of profound not knowing, and wonder, endless wonder.' ~Jeff Foster Sacred Dreams

"When soul meets soul, magic happens. Pretense falls away. One becomes authentic and real. There is no need to hide any part of ourselves, for we stand naked, vulnerable, but with this, our highest soul truth can emerge, our shadow and light. We can voice our inner-most thoughts, we can share our inner-most Being, that which makes our souls soar and fly, and that which so often pulls us down. When soul meets soul, it is more of an energetic exchange, for one is now reading the other, at energetic soul level, for the soul is pure energy. Lies cannot exist in energy fields, nor can masks and pretense. The inner eyes will read the energy fields, and it will read what is not authentic and true. It is when souls are stripped of all the impediments of earthly incarnations, that their highest truth shines through. All that is left, is pure, unconditional love. Love without condition. Love that just openly loves and accepts all as it is. Love that loves. And has the wisdom to...

I’m always looking for a bit of blue sky wherever I can find it,…

“She was beautiful, for the way she thought.  She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.” 💙 ― F. Scott Fitzgerald painting by Nathalie Picouliet

Ladybirds - Poem by Angela Wybrow If, upon you, a ladybird, lightly, lands, Don't just brush it off with your hands. Chances are, that its visit will be short, Once it realises it is at the wrong port. For the ladybird, we seem to have a soft spot, But for worrying wasps, we certainly have not. Ladybirds often feature in stories for the young, And, as a result, their praises are frequently sung. To ladybirds, we have quite an attraction, But wasps do not evoke the same reaction. Dressed in its shiny shell of bright, rich red, The ladybird possesses a tiny, tickling tread. Upon seeing a ladybird, a wish, you should make, Then your wish will be granted, in the bug's wake. If you kill one, then, for you, life will be really bad; Misfortune will come your way, and make you sad. A ladybird will never do you any harm; It is considered, by some, a lucky charm. If, towards a ladybird, you are kind, A place up in Heaven, you will find.

He said he knew how to play with fire and fed tender to a shy little spark, coaxing her into a blue and gold flame that lit up his murky dark He said he wasn't afraid of being burnt and built her into a bonfire of his dreams, but soon he was scrambling back, and she could hear his frightened screams He said she should have been more careful as he dug a put to douse her with sand, yet there she was burning blindingly and there she still stand ~~Werda Shermeen Zia

I realise there's something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they're experts at letting things go. ~ Jeffrey McDaniel

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.... Ian Thomas 

“Loneliness can be Conquered… Only by those who can bear Solitude…” Paul Tillich Image © Anna Steel Palavras Fotográficas

We seldom think of November in terms of beauty or any other specially satisfying tribute. November is simply that interval between colorful and dark December. Then, nearly every year, come a few November days of clear, crisp weather that makes one wonder why November seldom gets its due. There is the November sky, clean of summer dust, blown clear this day of the urban smog that so often hazes autumn.... There is the touch of November in the air, chill enough to have a slight tang, like properly aged cider. Not air that caresses, nor yet air that nips. Air that makes one breathe deeply and think of spring water and walk briskly. ~ Hal Borland, November 1970 ~ Image by Paolo De Faveri via The garden of pensiveness

Tanka Diary : Raindrops, tenacious, tentative on bamboo twigs, seeming a promise, cling for an eternity all their own and then are gone. – Michael Boiano

A balancing act Life is a balance of work and play A constant balance between night and day The balance between good and bad A balance between happy and sad Friends and family, pets and the lawn Twenty four seven, your whole life long Then one day in the middle of the night Your thrown off balance, nothing seems right What once was, is no longer the norm Your left in turmoil in the eye of a storm You struggle to regain control in your life To make sense again, turn wrong into right To define the person you are now To make it through life, some way, some how On auto pilot you just fly along Hoping to catch a breeze, to give words to your song Then in the future the scales line up again BEWARE! It’s just an illusion, my friend ~~Rhonda Baker

"In the rising of the sun and its going down, We Remember Them. In the bowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, We Remember Them. In the opening of the buds— and in the rebirth of spring. We Remember Them. In the blueness of the skies— and in the warmth of summer, We Remember Them. In the rustling of the leaves— and in the beauty of autumn. We Remember Them. In the beginning of the year and when it ends, We Remember Them. When we are weary and in need of strength, We Remember Them. When we are lost and sick of heart, We Remember Them. When we have joys and special celebrations— we yearn to share, We Remember Them. So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are part of us. We Remember Them." — S. Kamens & J. Riemer

I believe that there are souls that travel through time continually, and there are certain souls that are connected to others. They are forever searching for one another, and in some way they are always connected. Maybe by the thinnest of strands, but always connected. Always searching for one another so that they can try over and over to love each other. Sometimes these souls find each other in their life forms at the wrong time, or in the wrong place, and try as they might it doesn't work out. Maybe they come together with such a difference in lifestyle or age that it makes it impossible for them to live and love together. So they walk away, even though in their heart they know they belong together. But the thread still remains connected, waiting for their next time, with the hope still alive that in that next time it will finally work out. I believe that's why when you meet a certain person you just know. It's like you have known them forever, because in effect yo...

“Time doesn’t fly, it steals. Like some skilled pickpocket or magician,  it gets you to look the other way and when you do,  it ruthlessly steals your essential things— memories, great moments that end much too soon,  the lives of those you love.  It knows how to trick you and then steal you blind.” ― Jonathan Carroll

"When your soul awakens, your quest begins  and you can not go back.  From there, you are animated by a powerful flame  that will never let you fall back into illusion. You refuse to let compromise or fear keep you  from reaching the peak of your achievement. "

'If you love me let me go' Do not tell me, I don't want to know Whilst the swings in my mind sway too and fro I am loving you dearly, but don't want to let go 'By letting go it all gets done' Goodbye smiles, goodbye fun Your face; your hands; your shine like the sun Gone in an instant as it all gets done “The key to change … is to let go of fear.” I feel unsure without you here If only I could have somehow told you, dear But now it's too late, and it is change I fear If I loved you, I might let you go Let you move on, like the wind does blow To me, as a friend, you could only grow But now, I fear, I must let you go ~~ Twilight Whispers painting Anne Magill