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Archive | poetry

An African Elegy – Ben Okri

 

african

An African Elegy

We are the miracles that God made
To taste the bitter fruit of Time.
We are precious.
And one day our suffering
Will turn into the wonders of the earth.

There are things that burn me now
Which turn golden when I am happy.
Do you see the mystery of our pain?
That we bear the poverty
And are able to sing and dream sweet things.

And that we never curse the air when it is warm
Or the fruit when it tastes so good
Or the lights that bounce gently on the waters?
We bless the things even in our pain.
We bless them in silence.

That is why our music is so sweet.
It makes the air remember.
There are secret miracles at work
That only Time will bring forth.
I too have heard the dead singing.

And they tell me that
This life is good
They tell me to live it gently
With fire, and always with hope.
There is wonder here

And there is surprise
In everything the unseen moves.
The ocean is full of songs.
The sky is not an enemy.
Destiny is our friend.

 

By: Ben Okri

Photo by Phoolanjaya Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Quote What is Love?

 

Love

 

What is Love?
It is something that has
Infinite possibilities
To enlarge and expand.

 

Love is the inner bond,
the inner connection, the inner link between man and God,

between the finite and the infinite.
We always have to approach God through love.
Without love, we cannot become one with God.

 

What is love?

If love means possessing someone or something then that is not real love;

that is not pure love.
If love means giving and becoming one with everything,
with humanity and divinity, then that is real love.
Real love is our total oneness with the object loved and with the possessor of love.
Who is the possessor of love? God

 

By: Sri Chinmoy

From: Quotes on Love

Love Human and Love Divine

Photo by Ranjit Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Poem – Cosmic Consciousnes

 

Cosmic Consciousness

I have wrapped the wide world in my wider self
And Time and Space my spirit’s seeing are.
I am the god and demon, ghost and elf,
I am the wind’s speed and the blazing star.

All Nature is the nursling of my care,
I am its struggle and the eternal rest;
The world’s joy thrilling runs through me, I bear
The sorrow of millions in my lonely breast.

I have learned a close identity with all,
Yet am by nothing bound that I become;
Carrying in me the universe’s call
I mount to my imperishable home.

I pass beyond Time and life on measureless wings,
Yet still am one with born and unborn things.

By: Sri Aurobindo

Photo By: Phoolanjaya from: Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Prayer – Henry David Thoreau

 

Prayer

Great God, I ask for no meaner pelf
Than that I may not disappoint myself,
That in my action I may soar as high
As I can now discern with this clear eye.

And next in value, which thy kindness lends,
That I may greatly disappoint my friends,
Howe’er they think or hope that it may be,
They may not dream how thou’st distinguished me.

That my weak hand may equal my firm faith
And my life practice what my tongue saith
That my low conduct may not show
Nor my relenting lines
That I thy purpose did not know
Or overrated thy designs.

By: Henry David Thoreau

Photo from: Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Because I Could Not Stop For Death

 

Because I could not stop for Death

by: Emily Dickinson

 

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then ’tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses’ heads
Were toward eternity.

 

By: Emily Dickinson.

Photo by Unmesh Swanson Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Who is it That Loves?

Who is it That Suffers?

Sri Anandamayi Ma

 

"Who is it that loves and who that suffers?
He alone stages a play with Himself.
The individual suffers because he perceives duality.
 Find the One everywhere and in everything
and there will be an end to pain and suffering."

By: Sri Anandamayi Ma

 

Sri Anandamayi Ma with Paramahansa Yogananda in Autobiography of a Yogi

Poem – The World

 

Poem – The World

by: Sa’adi

 

The world, my brother! will abide with none,
By the world’s Maker let thy heart be won.
Rely not, nor repose on this world’s gain,
For many a son like thee she has reared and slain.
What matters, when the spirit seeks to fly,
If on a throne or on bare earth we die?

 

Poem By: Saadi

Photo by Sharani Sri Chinmoy Centre Galleries

 

Sa?di (in Persian: ?????, full name in English: Muslih-ud-Din Mushrif-ibn-Abdullah) (1184 – 1283/1291?) is one of the major Persian poets of the medieval period. He is recognized not only for the quality of his writing, but also for the depth of his social thought.

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