The eye is not a camera taking shots
Our mind affects the aspect we perceive
And what it feels important it allots
Gives grace or hatred ,causes us to grieve
. When we are afraid ,we see the worst
We see disgrace or ruin as our fate
As if our self for horror has a thirst
So all the little details we collate
Yet when we love we see before us joy
The flowers sing, the birds dance in the air
We see no evil nor with hatred toy
All aspects of our world appear more fair.
We see not what is there,we see our self
To learn ,we must employ our own mind’s wealth
The cello has a tender singing voice
Allows the feelings which we cannot say.
Among composers, Bach would be my choice
The cello sings rich lyrics with her voice.
Rostropovich , Prague,he wept of course.
Soviet armies marched, the Czechs were flayed.
The cello has a sorrowing truthful voice;
Speaks our feelings when we cannot pray.
Underneath the weight of knowledge learned
For a moment, we may often ask
That in this world there is an empty space,
I feel inert like marble on a beach
“Picking up where Rousseau left off a quarter millennium ago, Phillips and Taylor consider what it takes to nourish our natural benevolence, asserting that it must begin with embracing the very vulnerability from which kindness springs:
Everybody is vulnerable at every stage of their lives; everybody is subject to illness, accident, personal tragedy, political and economic reality. This doesn’t mean that people aren’t also resilient and resourceful. Bearing other people’s vulnerability — which means sharing in it imaginatively and practically without needing to get rid of it, to yank people out of it — entails being able to bear one’s own. Indeed it would be realistic to say that what we have in common is our vulnerability; it is the medium of contact between us, what we most fundamentally recognize in each other.