You are the book, I read every day. Some times flipping through I read your moves and gestures. Some times rereads allow me to dive and decipher. Not everybody carries the ability to see all the bands emitting out of a prism named body.
Not every body carries the capability to read the prints provided by ever chirping senses. May I react or gaze through to store, depends upon my strategic core. Just one thing for you to know, I stack every book in the memory of my library.
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like it or not, the problem with this beautiful Zambia isn't anything rather than greed. Every single Zambian who gets an opportunity to make sense, will rather only want to quickly enrich himself/ themselves at d detriment of others. And yet, nothing, I mean, NOTHING! will happen. This, my brother is the problem.
Patriotism comes when there is progress. Nobody want to tap his chest and say that mad man scavenging from that Waste bin is my son, brother, father, etc.
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Let the heart carry no pain, Let the brain not carry any calculations, Let the actions not carry revenge n agitation, Let the eyes not carry the weak moments, Let the lips not carry the sensations of vengeance. Wrapped up in cozy calmness, keep dropping into your Piggy bank... all the blessings, the Lord bestows out of love.
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In Paradise the women are said to fake orgasm but it all works out. The men fake sensitivity.
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He wooed with words and voice only...while she sensed the missing heart.
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Loyalties are important, yet they can travel only so far. One comes to question that commitment, such as, is it to an ideal cause; or to an individual, who's actions give one pause. If the answer returns some clarity, with a consensus, but conflicting view, one can finally reach a conclusion; to thine self, will you be true.
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The careful choice of words, rhythm, rhyme, and meter creates a sense of beauty and musicality that can be deeply moving and enjoyable to readers and listeners.
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Poetry is another language to carry the psyche through the various dimensions of dark and light. It is an abstract built-in mechanism for most poets/musicians whether they write limericks, long tomes, or lyrics, to cope with living and the measures of existing, life and death, love, loss, to understand, to make sense, to find answers, to "feel".
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Everything we perceive is based on a number of variables, including our senses, emotions, mental and physical health, life experiences and the influences of others. But, our intuition is our higher self and knowledge in action.
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Believing in nothing doesn't make any sense, yet believing in many Gods is almost as nonsensical.
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A child brought up in a loving safe haven blossoms into a laudable sensation.
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I have learned more from Silence than anything I have ever read nor heard preached. Quieting myself from the chatter of the world, from egoistic, pompous platforms, the many scientific podiums raucously orating -- God is always speaking to us positively within the Silence, while the Devil, a voluminous orchestra of brassy-pride, doubts and fears rattling our physical senses, negatively affecting our thought processing. Silence is our larger ear, wax free:)
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I sense imminent danger even before they tickle my naiveness with sweet cunning. I avoid being friendly with any stranger I meet by weighting out the consequences.
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A man who seeks wisdom is one of honor, but a man who lacks common sense is a disaster to himself
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Some things don't make sense to you, but that doesn't make them wrong.
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The skies in Oregon before this Easter are cloudy, rainy and stormy. Like the storms in our lives they pass, the sun comes out, and we have been washed clean and there is a sense of peace. Ever storm eventually passes—with faith, hope and patience, we find a lesson.
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The Universe does not make mistakes,
We rise from where we have fallen.
If you can not see atleast receive sense.
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As long as whatever you write, makes sense to you...that is enough. In my opinion. If others enjoy what you have said, seem to find value in the write, then maybe your voice was also God's opinion.
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Insensitivity is cruelty!
Often we fail to see beyond our interests.
Often we fail to see the sufferings we cause to people.
Often we don't turn back what we have spoilt.
Often we don't see that the one who slipped may not be able to rise.
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While in the human body, spirit yet senses its divine, loving source -- for there lingers a soul hunger, an alienation that no experience on earth can fully satisfy. A need to be one again with our God.
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We don't have to see, to know that we are loved. Nor feel nor hear, for love transcends mortal senses.
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Common sense is wisdom... in the shallow end of the pool.
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Wisdom without common sense is like writing with a pen without ink
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Poetry, art, music, religion are very seductive -- used in a wrong way they can give people a false sense of purpose and value.
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Without looking into our hearts,
how can we find Paradise?
—Kabir Das, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch (keywords/tags: heart, hearts, paradise, sight, seeing, senses, vision)
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We human are only just as tiny as dust on earth. Life is fragile, helpless and variable sometimes. Still, we have to put our hearts at the right place and have a sense of justice always!
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If mankind is not ended by prophetic intervention it surely will consume itself from the limited capacity of man and a godless sense of self.
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Though I like to write nonsense -- what the heck, a belly-laugh is always good-medicine -- but words with a little more meat on them, words that stick to the lining of a spirit, taking a bit more time to digest, I feel greatly honored when given even small part in their production.
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I find that the most intelligent folks don't apply commonsense but stick to unconventional rules.
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I believe there is only one race, the human race with many variations, (consensus of anthropologists these days)--I Am Anaya
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