have built walls around me and
enclosed me. I cannot break out.
My life has become so empty. I
live as one in the tomb, as one in
the grave. I cannot make myself
heard, and no one breaks through
the silence to me.
I feel myself
drifting into the darkness. I
cannot pull free. I sense doom.
Beauty stirs my heart, and briefly
I am revived. Wonder and awe reach
out to me from afar, but my
despairs overwhelm me. My despairs
and fears have become my masters,
and I have relinquished to them
all control over my destiny.
have become subservient to all
those wretched worries and
thoughts which illuminate the
horrors latent in the human mind.
Less and less am I able to summon
hope. Too long have I been turned
inward, too long has been my
isolation, too long has been my
separation from love.
no longer inspire me. I am no
longer thrilled by rainbows or
sunsets. My heart leaps up no more
at the sight of a flower or the
sound of the birds singing. Nature
even in Her most cheerful garb
cannot put joy in my blighted
heart. I no longer eagerly await
the dawn and arise and greet the
rising sun with joyful hope and
anticipation in my heart.
depression has enshrouded me. Like
a base slave I have let it
tyrannize over my heart. I must
shake myself free from this
oppression. The world is still
bright and beautiful. There are
many kind and good people. God
still loves me. It is this foul
despondency that has blinded my
eyes and stopped my ears. If only
i can make it through this dark
night, I know there will be a
There's Something Joyful Here
something joyful here
springtime of the year,
the song of the bird,
other sounds I have heard;
in the spring shower,
the spring flower,
It's in the
laughter of the young,
the glow of the sun;
It's in the
And in the blue
There is a joy in the
And in the stars
It's in people in
And in the treetops
It's in the grass on the
And in the
It's in the frogs
And well, I think
it's in everything,
For in the
springtime of the year
I doubt if anytime is more beautiful than blossom time in the springtime of the year. In the spring how fresh and fragrant the air is, and how everything just kind of blossoms out all over the place.
There is no sense worrying and grieving. It won't help. I can't change things. I just have to learn to live with it. It's springtime now and things are bound to get better. The sweet-williams and bluebells are blooming in the woods, and the dogwoods and redbuds surely are pretty. The lilacs are blooming and their sweet fragrance wafts the springtime air.
Life is good, and it's a wonderful world after all. See, there are robins in the yard, and the daffodils and tulips are blooming. Things are not so bad. Listen to those birds sing. They surely are happy about something.
Outside the world is coming alive as little twigs are turning all colors and green is popping out of the soil and all over. Why, I even see a butterfly, and there are some baby rabbits. How could anything be bad or sad at blossom time?
Day and night are mine,
Moonlight and sunshine,
The world of birds and flowers,
And the glory of the stars;
Lifeand hope and peace,
And the wind blowing through the trees,
The power of the storms,
And the sky and sun that warms;
And leaves, green leaves, fallen leaves,
And time to enjoy these,
Moments to be free,
Years to live and contentment to be.
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