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Sunday, September 9, 2012

don't grow weary




S O N G   F O R    N O B O D Y

by Thomas Merton

A yellow flower
(Light and spirit)
Sings by itself
For nobody.

A golden spirit
(Light and emptiness)
Sings without a word
By itself.

Let no one touch this gentle sun
In whose dark eye
Someone is awake.

(No light, no gold, no name, no color
And no thought:
O, wide awake!)

A golden heaven
Sings by itself
A song to nobody.










When my soul has grown weary, I am always drawn to the song, above.  Drawn to early morning darkness, the best place I've found, to remember that you belong to yourself.

Don't lose faith in me and I won't lose faith in you, goes the song.  Rumi puts it this way:

"I don't get tired of you. Don't grow weary
of being compassionate toward me!"


Be here now.

Don't let your soul get lonely.


"Don't go to sleep one night.
What you want most will come to you then.
Warmed by a sun inside, you'll see wonders."


"Listen to presences inside poems,
Let them take you where they will."


"Light again, and the one who brings light!
Change the way you live!"

~ Rumi


See light in the morning darkness, sing to nobody, don't get tired. Change the way you live.

(You must change your life....)




6 comments:

  1. this post spoke so deeply to me that it actually made me cry....thank you dear shawna for spreading such beauty and hope....it is so precious!

    love,
    vibeke

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. you're so sweet. i'm glad you liked it. ~ S.

      Delete
  2. A beautiful meditation for a Sunday morning. Thank you Shawna.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Such a beautiful post. Thomas Merton is one of my all time favorite gnostics. Love this little sunflower....

    ReplyDelete
  4. This post was beautiful- song, poem, picture, and reflection. I found the following online, for you.


    Poem – “An Insomniac’s ‘Cure’” by Eshvari Sharma


    As the night fades away,
    The sun beams grasp onto my hands
    Hands which are weak from exhaustion
    Hands which allows the one with insomnia,
    To dream.

    Allowing sceneries that were once non-existent.
    Romanticised,
    Exaggerated and embellished with fine detail.
    The light warms up these hands which were frozen through twilight
    But as I look out, it is dark as could be.

    Where does this light come from? What strengthened my hands?
    As I put my pen down, and sat with thought,
    The blinding brightness of a burning star appears
    Breaking the strength, my light had brought.
    As the night burns away …

    By Eshvari Sharma

    ReplyDelete

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