My Writings (New 14)

The Unknown

Our soul is frightened, and yet feels compelled to peer into that which is unknown. We draw back at the edge of the precipice of the unknown. We turn away and seek solace in the familiar and commonplace. Yet some impulse pulls us to that brink again and again.

Infinity, eternity, death, the beginning and the end are all part of the vast and dark unknown that taunt our soul to peer into their abysmal depths. Our soul folds back into itself in fear of dissolution at such thoughts. Therein dwells that beyond which there is comprehension, and beyond the range of our sanity.

We totter between the darkness of the great unknown and the light of the known. We waver between a vast uncertainty and apprehension, and the certainty and security of everyday life. Some part of us will be always be peering there never quite sure or content, and seeing in part a reality of life more astonishing than any fiction or fantasy.

Fishermen of Our Own Souls

We seek to bring to light,
The ever elusive plot of the universe.
By casting our nets,
We hope to catch the prey,
The ever shadowy truth.

We cast off from shore,
Amid the tumult of our thoughts,
In quest of that one all liberating thought,
That will rent the veil,
Light up the night,
And show us the way.

The skies grow clouded,
Our eyes are thunderstruck,
The waters are all troubled,
And yield only darkness,
Until we despair of knowing.

Alone in the billowing sea,
Amidst the clamoring storm,
A poor friendless child of man,
Churning in the unsettled waters
Of his own being,
Each of us are fishermen of our own souls.

Discrimination and Intolerance

Perhaps one of the uglist and most horrific aspects of human nature is a tendency toward discrimnation and intolerance. People seem to have this unwarranted and unreasonable hatred, fear, and prejudice toward anyone of a different religion, culture, race, or some other difference to which they are not accustomed and which is unfamiliar to them.

This most desturbing and troubling human trait of discrimination and intolerance of anyone different has afflicted society for ages, and has destroyed the peace and sanctity of individual lives, homes, communities, and nations since time immemorial.

We are all of one race, the human race. Though our religious faiths may differ somewhat, we are all seekers of truth and of God. We are all searching for answers. We all need love and understanding. We all face adversities and hardships, and need the helping hand of a friend now and then.

When all is said and done we are much more alike than different. We are all in this life together. We all share the same planet. If we hope to survive we are going to have to try to get along with one another.

Magical Is The Forest Air

Magical is the forest air,
With scenes both soft and fair.
Dear is the softest nest,
In which the smallest bird may rest.

I know no finer note,
Than comes from a songbird's throat,
Who sings for nothing more,
Than my just opening my door.

Though small that it may be,
It sings loudly and sweetly.
No musician at any time,
Could sing as a songbird does chime.

Awesome is the forest tree,
And a wonder is the honeybee.
Never did I feel more near,
To these dear forest beings here.

The Grass

The Bible says in Psalms 23:2-"He maketh me to to lie down in green pastures": he leadth me beside the still waters". How blessed it is to be able to lie down in green pastures. How blessed is the green grass. The grass is comforting as it makes us feel cool and contented. Freshness seems to emit from the grass, and we get a sense of peace when viewing the grass.

The grass symbolizes immortality, for it resurrects every spring. In spring those first tender blades of grass so green against the brown of the soil just liberated from the cold and snow, is a source of hope and inspiration for us. The yearly resurrection of the grass fills our heart with new hope and expectations, and with new incentive as it encourages us to new and better things. The grass expresses life's eternal wonder.

The grass finds its way into every little vacant spot however unfavorable. The grass pokes its tiny blades between the rocks, snuggles amid tin cans and paper napkins, and conceals the trash and rubbish with its ever new and fresh green color. The grass is not particular, for it grows in a junkyard as well as in the well manicured lawn of an elegant estate. The grass reveals as bright a face along the highway as it does on the lawn or in a pasture.

Where the grass grows life is teeming, for the grass is a minature forest in which millions of tiny, minute creatures live and die. Any place which does not permit the growth of grass is hardly livable. The grass sustains us, for from the grass's use as a provender for cattle and other domesticated farm animals, it is the original source of much of our nourishment.

A grassy scenes gives to us repose and peace of mind. Instinctively we are drawn to the grass, feeling a need for its presence, and we are distressed when we are subjected to long periods of its absence. The grass is an old friend which comforts us in life and covers us in death.


Profanity is not only a perversion of words,
But it perverts the heart and mind,
And tends to corrupt society as a whole,
Making people cruel and unkind.

So many innocent people,
Have been harmed by this perversity,
For this corruption of the language,
Promotes indecency and immorality.

Words should have a higher use,
And not be spued in this vile form,
Words should encourage and inspire,
Not abuse, desecrate, and harm.

The Back of Our Mind

There are many bits and pieces of memories in the back of our mind, faces of people without names, repressed memories, fragments of memories of a lifetime all scattered about just out of our grasp. Sometimes the memories drift into our thoughts when we close our eyes, or as we drift into sleep. Sometimes they appear distorted and tangled in dreams.

The back of our mind holds memories filled with pain that we have pushed as far back and away from our conscious thoughts as possible, but every so often they escape to haunt us like lost spirits. The back of the mind also stores shreds of beautiful memories of spring days, of butterflies, drifting clouds, a mother's kiss, a vase of flowers, the smell of rain in the air.

As we grow older at times all the lost memories come flooding back for brief periods and we become teary eyed, then just as quickly they disappear again and leave us sad and empty.

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