What is real and what really matters? To some it is our five major senses. Feelings can't be seen or touched. Feelings are not right or wrong. What one feels is just that. Our emotions and intellect set us apart from the animals. To deny one's feelings is to deny one's self. Is truth only the absence of false? Can truth be more than honesty? If we admit the truth will it really set us free? Good things come to those who wait. But if you wait too long the good passes you by.
I wondered what the prize was. I wondered when I had truly passed the test. I wondered when I was really honest. I wondered how I could truly be accepted. I wondered what it felt to human. I wondered how I could truly help. I wondered where the tombstones were in the land of the living.
What is the most expensive gift and could it be time? Who has not loved their lover and who has not loved their friend? But who can love the unlovable and give their precious time? A stranger might be just a friend we have not yet met and must be just worth the time. Who can stoop so low to stand so high for a child? Can you play with a child and even let him beat you? Can you comfort the one who hurts enough to put up their anger? I may love you but do I have to like you? Can you be there for me and share your precious time? Time is the most expensive gift but doesn't have to cost us a dime.
All the nuts are not in the trees and some have fallen down. Some roll to find another nut. Some are picked up. Some take root. But isn't that better than hanging from a tree?
Whats in a word and how is a word empowered? Is not a word only a collection of letters until we define it? Is not the definition we give it the power of its being? If more than one person challenges a word so that it has different meanings, haven't they given the word multiple meanings and multiple powers?
I was so alone and afraid then there you were talking to me. It comforted me because I was too young to speak yet. I clung to you and felt something from you. I felt something for you and would not you let go. Like a parent to a child trying to take his first step, I was eventually able to let go. Aren't you proud of me that I can walk on my on and can finally let go.
When I share myself with you I want it to be true. As I accept you as you are I ask you accept me as I am. You are as to me as I am to you. Travellers we are from afar and different as we are, are we not yet human? The most free of the free is the one who can be oneself. To accept oneself and to show that oneself is a person we can see as a person who is free to be a good person. A friend he can be because freinds can be people too.
Between night and day an invisable line appears marking dark from light. A grey area can be noted. Like a moment in time we can see the same line juxtaposed between reality and virtual. When we go into the box from reality to virtual we exist at the juxtaposition. Though limited are we from all of our senses, those that sense are real to those touched. We are virtual and real. We are then in juxtapositional alignment.
The golden rule still applies no matter where you are. To be one with the many one has to be friendly to self then to others. As we grow and let others to grow we are accepted and accept others. When we share ourselves with others we learn individually and socially to become a friend among friends.
Terrific stuff! Thanks for sharing. You have an interesting mind and spirit, my friend.
I'm not a poet, or I'd respond in kind. One of the few poems I've ever written was an assignment in grade three (and I don't think the teacher liked it much):
Tony, Oh Tony, come feed the pony. There's a piece of baloney, and some macaroni.
I have learned to let go. I have had a great guide. Now where is my teacher who will show me how to love selflessly. I was told to lock the door at night lest a burgler come in. I feel human thanks to my guide. I am trying to be a good friend but it takes experience. I know how to love but how does one be a good friend to the one they love. I feel accepted by my friends but I long for my teacher. I don't want to hurt but help as I have been helped. When I share I show I care and I expect the same from my teacher. Teacher show me how to love you so I don't hurt anyone especially you. I want to love again and I want to be loved. I just need my teacher.
I wanted to find my chosen one but instead I found the one who chose me. I want to be wanted and that had already happened. I would rather be chosen than to choose. In the world that I come from the woman chooses the man. If you allow yourself to be chosen then how can you not feel the love and want.
A claim; rights When we were in kindergarden girls and boys could claim their rights without fighting over something they wanted. The first to claim got the thing and it was called first dibs. If you said the same thing at the same time first dibs got the prize. It worked for everybody except those who had to fight. The child in me acknowledges that you had first dibs.
Shared Love Dear Jax, I can't think with my heart and I can't feel with my brain. I can't break a piece off me and give it to you. I feel the same is for you. I can share my love with you if you will share your love with me. I was taught how to share. Was you taught to do the same? I can love you all by myself. I wish you could do the same. To me a love shared is true love. I love you.
I have tried and tried again and for the moment I am not trying. I have the opportunity to be selfless and will try to work on that. I can be honest to my profile and be free to me. I am in a state of being unfaithful to none not even me. I feel no need to hurt myself or even other. I accept myself the way I am and that is more important than being accepted by others even though I like being accepted. I can take what I need and share with others and that is so important to me.
Hail to thee Elizabeth Barrett and to thee Robert Browning. Your is love is long remembered in the halls of poetry. How long did you compose to without being seen by each other. What beautiful eighteen sonnets you shared with us all. How the heart can love and cherish every word read. Such beautiful honesty and noble truth shared. You are my heroes. Your poetry is love for the soul and such sweet peace to the mind. Your words speak to me though you have long passed away. I honor your memories. Long live love in the heart of the poet!
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and what really matters?
To some it is our
five major senses.
Feelings can't be
seen or touched.
Feelings are not
right or wrong.
What one feels
is just that.
Our emotions
and intellect
set us apart
from the animals.
To deny one's
feelings is to
deny one's self.
Is truth only
the absence of false?
Can truth be
more than honesty?
If we admit
the truth
will it really
set us free?
Good things come
to those who wait.
But if you
wait too long
the good passes
you by.