When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits, I dreamed of changing the world. As I grew older and wiser, I discovered the world would not change, so I shortened my sights somewhat and decided to change only my country.
But, it too, seemed immovable.
As I grew into my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt, I settled for changing only my family, those closest to me, but alas, they would have none of it.
And now as I lie on my deathbed, I suddenly realize: If I had only changed my self first, then by example I would have changed my family.
From their inspiration and encouragement, I would then have been able to better my country and, who knows, I may have even changed the world.
....there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man.. ....that he does not know.. ....till he takes the pen to write.. :) ;)
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...who is a POET??...he is...but a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace trying to fashion an image out of the ashes...
..he is the poorest of the poor..yet he carries an oasis in his heart cultivated by the caravan of his thinking...he is a pauper..but he still pretends to be a ' prince ' in the kingdom of his vivid imagination..
..he only sings when he is starving for he cannot sing if his mouth be filled with food...
..he only raises his hand to beg for he cannot raise his hands if it be filled with gold...
..his wealth is his winged imagination and fictive power to think...and ' thinking ' always acts for him as the stumbling stone to ' poetry '... :) ;)
..he is a tree watered by the river of beautiful thoughts..and carries in his heart a lamp unconquered by darkness..
..yes..he seeks NIRVANA..not by counting coins of gold..but in leading his sheep to greener pasture..in seeking a smile from humanity...in putting his child to sleep..and in writing the last line of his poem... :)
...he will be unheard until humans honor the dead and forget the living..for then only upon his ' death '... ' he ' will rule their hearts...and his kingdom will have no ending... :) :) ;)
..he is the poorest of the poor..yet he carries an oasis in his heart cultivated by the caravan of his thinking...he is a pauper..but he still pretends to be a ' prince ' in the kingdom of his vivid imagination..
..he only sings when he is starving for he cannot sing if his mouth be filled with food...
..he only raises his hand to beg for he cannot raise his hands if it be filled with gold...
..his wealth is his winged imagination and fictive power to think...and ' thinking ' always acts for him as the stumbling stone to ' poetry '... :) ;)
..he is a tree watered by the river of beautiful thoughts..and carries in his heart a lamp unconquered by darkness..
..yes..he seeks NIRVANA..not by counting coins of gold..but in leading his sheep to greener pasture..in seeking a smile from humanity...in putting his child to sleep..and in writing the last line of his poem... :)
...he will be unheard until humans honor the dead and forget the living..for then only upon his ' death '... ' he ' will rule their hearts...and his kingdom will have no ending... :) :) ;)
..TO HAVE GREAT POETS..THERE MUST BE GREAT AUDIENCES TOO... :)
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