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I Can Teach You How To Fly
When you perch on the sunset, wishing to paint
The drifting clouds in their infinite grace
Is the art not already
In their reflection:
The awe in your face?
And when the air is thick with darkness
In the hours before dawn
From where do the fireflies
Get their glow
To flicker out
And flicker on?
How can God be in an infant?
And a man inside his heart?
Why do years pass in the moment
When brothers part?
Have you tasted the night
When it’s freshly sliced
By a silent, white
Moonbeam?
Do you realize that your visions are real
And the days are all a dream?
Do you weep when the droplets of joy
Trickle from your hand?
Can you leap into the chilly lake
To let the boat sail on, unmanned?
Can you read the scripture in the sand?
And say a prayer before the seas?
Can you forget you have a body
And flutter in the breeze?
Do you need to close your shining eyes
To finally begin to breathe?
Will you listen to the Raven
When he whispers the word
‘Believe’?
So, you silver-eyed poetess
You daughter of the stars
You reacher for the horizon
You dreamer from afar
The answers are written inside you
And as the mute bird, suddenly, sings
When you read the letters
On your soul
You will come across your wings
And between loving
And hoping
And creating and dying
And knowing
And guessing
And laughing and crying
You will discover
That you’re already
Flying
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This article has 36 comments.
When it’s freshly sliced
By a silent, white
Moonbeam?"
Yes, yes I have - and it was quite scrumptious. My bed is positioned right next to one of my windows, which is at the same level, so often during a restless night I gaze outside. One thing I love doing is just laying outside on the grass at night, looking at the stars, listening to the frogs chirp, feeling the midnight breeze...
Anyway, quite a lovely poem, my Feathery Bard. Like Rayne said, receiving a poem written for you like this this is a blessing in itself.
I'm luckier by far to know her, and to hear her poems. :)
Thanks again for your compliments...
You could always google her, though as you said, "mystery always leaves room for imagination" ;) :)
Cool :) I do kinda the same thing with my journal, though it's not as awesome as a wooden pensieve.
There's something about writing on scraps that almost makes you feel as if you were drawing them directly from out of your mind, raw and new born.
How odd! Good, though, as mystery always leaves room for imagination. I suppose I will always wonder who Elizabeth West is. :)
That's cool. I like to write down thoughts on little scraps of paper, and put them in a little wooden bowl, which I call my Pensieve. It seems like writing things on scratchpaper is the best way to capture thoughts at their purest.
Oh, baha, I had him placed much further back from what I gathered in the book I'm reading currently L:
Funnily enough, I don't know who she is either, I just found her quote among many others when I was looking through scratchpaper from my dad's school. I have eight scraps of paper taped to my wall with those quotes now.
I think I would as well, as I'd love to read Kahlil Gibran's journal. He was born in the late 1800s and died in the 1930s, I think.
What a great quote! Who is Elizabeth West (that may or may not be a stupid question, I don't know many famous people). I find myself agreeing with it almost entirely, as I'm very much out of everything, looking at it from a distance. :)
I think you would enjoy Thoughts and Meditations, it's nearly almost like reading his journal, I suppose. Everything is very insightful and poetic. I think it's interesting how relevant his writings are to the modern day. How long ago did he live? I seem to think he's from semi-ancient times, but maybe I'm wrong. He lived long enough ago that his country has changed it's name, but then again, that isn't saying much :)
Thank you.
Perhaps it will be a combination of both, "When man invented the bicycle, he reached the peak of his attainments. Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man. And (unlike subsequent inventions for man's convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became. Here, for once, was a product of man's brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others. Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle."
~Elizabeth West
I think there's a lot of truth in that quote, though not all of the truth. I'm so much in the middle of everything :)
Corrupt society and dentists? Hmm. I had never made the connection. :) But that's the kind of thing he does, and that's why I adored The Prophet. The chapter on joy and sorrow, especially, made its way to the deepest part of my heart. And if you're not eloquent, Stargirl, than neither am I; and I have long wished to be so. :)
I like that: "the shadows are what show the light for what it truly is." Such truth to that! And I will say much the same of speaking with you...
Let us hope that it is still ahead.
My mom read it out loud to us one evening, I liked it, though I'm sorry to say that I did not adore it. I think Kahlil Gibran is absolutely brilliant, though. I'm working my way through 'Thoughts and Meditations' for my spiritual growth section of school, 'cause I really ought to do at least some school over the summer. I'm really liking it, especially the chapter about corrupt society and how it likens to dentists and how they gild teeth instead of removing the rottenness altogether. I'm probably butchering what he meant, eloquent may be my favorite word, but it is not one of my traits.
That is true, perhaps painfully so. But still, the shadows are what show the light for what it truly is. Speaking with you is always illuminating and, perhaps, comforting.
I do not think that civilization is truly 'civilized'. There's something better, whether or not if we left it behind, or if it is still ahead.
Right, I adored 'The Prophet,' and quote it often. But thanks to a sarcastic Barnes and Noble employee, and my neglect of the local library, I've never read anything else by him.
If you felt like it, that probably means you could (or you did) in one way or another. It sounds like your heart was close to that of the forest, and that can bring about wonderful things.
That is indeed how life is, and I wouldn't wish it any other way. If the Autumn lasted the entire year, would we know how beautiful it is, how much of a gift it is? Would we still celebrate it? So just keep drinking from the cup when it's put to your lips, because the drink is sweetest when it is quenching your thirst.
Civilization often diminishes the best in us, I think.
I hope, also, that she (as well as other readers) know that only by asking the right questions can the deepest of answers be found.
"This I heard from the butterflies
As they argued with the bees.
This I heard from a fallen leaf
As it danced upon the breeze."
May each of you find what your hearts are seeking.