20.6.09

Old photographs..

i only have the weekend to savor the day where things seemed to be on a rush each day lately. now i only have this moment to just sit down without thinking much of the time that passes by. and so as i was rummaging old files and listened to this music, i felt like missing the things, the people and the moments i used to be with.

allow me to share one..

http://www.imeem.com/simphatiko/music/-NSoygsv/jim-capaldi-old-photographs/

Yesterday I felt the wind blowing 'round my shoulder
Feel like I'm getting older
Still I can't forget your face

Separated by a million miles of ocean
My heart still feels emotion
Even in this lonely place

Old photographs and places I remember
Just like a dying ember
That's burned into my soul

Even though we walk the diamond-studded highways
It's the country lanes and byways
That makes us long for home

Lately I just find my mind has turned to dreamin'
Making plans and scheming
How I'm gonna get back home

But deep down inside
I know its really hopeless
This road I'm on is endless
We climb our mountains all alone


REFRAIN
That makes us long
For home


happy weekend everyone..miss you all!

13.6.09

The Man with a Hoe

As we join hands to celebrate "Father's day" with all the dads in the world, I would like to share this poem as there is something about it that really inspires...

Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back, the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?

Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this--
More tongued with cries against the world's blind greed--
More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
More packed with danger to the universe.

What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of the Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world,
A protest that is also prophecy.

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs,Immedicable woes?

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?


by Edwin Markham
"happy father's day to all dads!"