Love and Forgivness

I was reading my favorite poems and prose and contemplating that which isn't exactly describable. I guess you might say I was daydreaming and pondering the irrevocable mystery of life

and life's connotations. I was reading the poem "Endymion" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, which is one of my favorites, which I keep in my Email, so as to re-read it periodically. The poem is a good description of what love is and reaffirms to me that everyone is worthy of love but love cannot be bought, it comes freely. The poem speaks to me, that love seeks us in silence and comes unannounced to heal our wounds and our souls. We may often think we are alone, discarded and unloved and depression grabs us and drags us into that pit of desolation. But we have the hope that we may be, once more, loved again. Please read the poem several times and metaphorically linger on the words and let them drift down slowly into the depths your soul.

Endymion by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The rising moon has hid the stars;

Her level rays, like golden bars,

Lie upon the landscape green,

With shadows brown between.

And silver white the river gleams,

As if Diana, in her dreams

Had dropped her silver bow

Upon the meadows low.

On such a tranquil night as this,

She woke Endymion with a kiss,

When sleeping in the grove,

He dreamed not of her love.

Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,

Love gives itself, but is not bought;

Her voice, nor sound betrays

Its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes,-the beautiful, the free,

The crown of all humanity,-

In silence and alone

To seek the elected one.

It lifts the boughs, whose shadows deep,

Are life's oblivion, the soul's sleep

And kisses the closed eyes

Of him, who slumbering lies.

O, weary hearts! O, slumbering eyes!

O, drooping souls, whose destinies

Are fraught with fear and pain,

Ye shall be loved again!

No one is so accursed by fate,

No one so utterly desolate,

But some heart unknown,

Responds unto his own.

Responds,-as if with unseen wings

A breath from heaven had touched its strings

And whispers, in its song,

"Where hast thou stayed so long!"

I might hazard that I actually see myself as a hopeless romantic but inwardly. I would never overtly disclose that to anyone but I suppose those that read my blog would figure that out.. I am a warrior and hunter, an adventurer and thrill seeker. Sort of like that European bread roll that is as hard as a rock on the outside but soft on the inside. Don"t kid yourself because I am capable of righteous indignation and have a preponderance to administer attitude adjustments in a coarse and primeval way.

There is another poem called Endymion ,that was written by another famous poet, John Keats. Keats poem was written in 1818 and Longfellow's was written about 1842. I think everyone would recall its first line: "A thing of beauty is forever" I will not give you the whole poem but only an exert. As with most people I like certain sections of a poem but not all of the poem.

Endymion By John Keats

A thing of beauty is forever

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; But still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams.

We have imagined the mighty dead

All lovely tales that we have heard or read

An endless fountain of immortal drink

Pouring unto us from heaven's brink

There is one more poem or saying that I committed to memory years and years ago and I am not certain as to its author. I have often dealt with my stubbornness in not letting something go but hanging on to it. The idea of forgiveness is an oxymoron to me. I can forgive but somehow I find that I cannot forget. Not forgetting and holding on to the hurt and memory thus nullifies the forgiveness. It seems to me a snake latched on to its tail going round and round. Don't get me wrong, this was a thing of my past and forgiveness is easy now and I resent no one. but there is the hurt that was done to us which will always linger somewhere in our subconscious. At my age you can look at those people that hurt you and not feel the anger nor snarl with vengeance but politely acknowledge them. Would I ever trust those people again with my confidence or my heart? No, I would not.

"Forgiveness is the scent of the violet that clings to the heal that crushed it"

Author: unclear, possibly Mark Twain or from an ancient Indian San-script.

Forgiveness is the broken dream

Which hides itself within the corner of the mind

Oft called forgetfulness so that

It will not bring pain to the dreamer.

Forgiveness is a GOD who will not leave us

After all we've done! Exerts from poem by George Roemisch

"Great is God's Mercy! Great is His Faithfulness!, MY Lord and MY God" Something I say regularly to myself at any given moment, sort of a mantra for my own edification. A couple of other things I quote to myself with regularity; "Absolutely nothing is chiseled in stone"( in other words, the world is always in a state of flux and changing continuously) and the last: "And these things too shall pass" meaning that this pain or challenge or whatever isn't forever and it will pass and things will return to normalcy. Enjoy!


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