'True peace must be felt within; any peace externally imposed that leaves turmoil within is not peace at all.' - Aloo Denish Obiero
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"I bid farewell to my dear yesterday, and loath the sorrow of tomorrow,
for I have heaved my last breath.”
-Edward
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One day we all die. All that remains are the photos and memories. Perhaps a person could write it all down and leave something of themselves behind; their thoughts, their memories. And in their written thoughts, perhaps "Love" is eventually understood and found. One day we all die. We all die one day. I shall ghost with the best of them ... a very ghostly ghost.(LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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One day we all die. All that remains are the photos and memories. Perhaps a person could write it all down and leave something of themselves behind; their thoughts, their memories. And in their written thoughts, perhaps "Love" is eventually understood and found. One day we all die. We all die one day. I shall ghost with the best of them ... a very ghostly ghost.(LadyLabyrinth/Leanne Lovejoy-Burton)
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We are forever searching. Searching the distant heavens for our perfect star...too often ignoring the dear light within -- outshining all man made fuels of glitter.
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“Love is a strange creature that no man can understand”
? Lisa C. Miller, Inspirations from Heaven's Gate
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Some of the respected people ask me how we get pain when
Our soul is amar body destroyed into the ashes you make your stupid thoughts
I just asked are you dead or alive because three naama one is ashes second is your body which is sucking giving unnecessary demand of health third is death.so when you leave think are you alive after that how much will be the pain because since from birth it happens.
With love all
Aghori mhabharamnad
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It’s not the steps that you take
— but the footprints you leave
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Writers leave our poetic footprints behind in our words.
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"Reeds love rivers, as the fading and transitory things of the world delight us. If, however, anyone shall pluck up this reed from the Earth, and strip off it's useless parts, spoiling the old man with his deeds, and guide it by the hand of a Scribe writing quickly, it begins to be no more a Reed, but a Pen, which impresses the precepts of the Heavenly Scriptures on the Hidden Places of the mind and writes them on the Tables Of The Heart"
- St.Ambrose
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Sagar manthan sey srishti nature nikali it's shit is heaven I leave there.....
Aghori mhabharamnad
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Some times hold thyself to see how simple this life is!
Some times give your touch to the leaves n petals around!
Some times breathe in the fog and levitate!
Some times admire simple things in people around!
Some times give accountability to your own self n get thru with complete responsibility!
Some times be the courage to support others!
Some times....... Just be what the Lord wants you to be!
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Remorse is a heavy rain that falls too late, yet leaves behind marks and lessons in its wake.
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“Betrayal leaves a stain, a shadow on the heart.” from the poem “Betrayal” by Max Burchett
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Only two winners in war, if one can call it that -- both heaven and hell increase their populations.
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Love opens the door to and for Sorrow. The choice is Sorrow’s direction. Of course, interpretation is also poetically open, dear Poet. From observation, like Love, Sorrow adores company, like Love, Sorrow is not averse to sharing its cage with numbers of other Sorrows, all requiring to be fed, they eventually have their fill and leave, spreading their wings for Lighter realms.(Leanne Lovejoy-Burton as LadyLabyrinth)
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Love opens the door to and for Sorrow. The choice is Sorrow’s direction. Of course, interpretation is also poetically open, dear Poet. From observation, like Love, Sorrow adores company, like Love, Sorrow is not averse to sharing its cage with numbers of other Sorrows, all requiring to be fed, they eventually have their fill and leave, spreading their wings for Lighter realms.
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The only sure profiters from war...are Heaven and Hell.
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Who learn the dhukha sahgat in a right way according to time they leave haply.
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It is our duty, to support the Cross, keeping it upright, its Crown pointing toward heaven and salvation.
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Like quantum entanglement, worship happens in two places at once: Earth and Heaven, in the living room and in the throne room.
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Hail fellow, speak what you believe
and watch your deeds, lest you deceive
by conduct, values you profess.
Caprice, says spider, spins in stress
a whimsy-web, not worth the weave.
from my poem WHAT WHIMSY WEBS WE WEAVE, posted at Poetry Soup
Reason A. Poteet
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Our destinies are inseparable. As long as one child is being abused and suffering on earth, those tears will salt the pure streams of even heaven. And we will be compelled to taste and drink of them. We take with us, not only all that we did...but all that we did not.
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I recall as a youngster, playing in a pile of raked leaves, tossing them up in the air, covering myself with their together warmth. Some see the bottle half full...some see it half empty. Children see and live the enrapture of the moment.
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Don't follow me,
Don't chase me,
Leave me alone.
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Poetry is the language of the soul, a canvas where emotions paint their most vibrant hues. Each verse, a brushstroke, weaves a tapestry of feelings, thoughts, and dreams.
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What I love most about autumn is the golden-crimson leaves blanketing the ground signaling rebirth to come, death in all its promising grandeur —I Am Anaya
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"With long strides thou stridest over Heaven" - Book Of The Dead
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It isn't being different that causes the great divide, it's being the same for sameness leaves no compromise.
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"Fresh rain a gift it leaves, a blending of primary colors on a canvas of blue background. God's blessing."
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