The hands entwined, the living and the dead

Don”t go, he  cried  from out his clean white bed
I wonder what  my presence meant in his last hours
The hands entwined, the living and the dead

They gave him  fish and carrot ,so they said
But on his table there was not a flower
Don”t go, he  cried  from out his clean white bed

On the stairs at night I hear a tread
I can’t  move at all  in those dread hours
The hands entwined, the living and the dead

 

His skin was pale as if he’d long time bled
Jesus looked  out from his wooden tower
Don”t go, he  cried  from out  that clean warm bed

 

He smiled the smile of heart well linked with head
At last it came, the final trembling hour
The hands entwined, the living and the dead

Somewhere was an energy, a power
A touching smile, a  need, a deed unsoured
He went, he  died , he left his clean white bed
The hands entwined, the living and the dead

A paragraph

business money innovation icon
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
abstract architect architectural design art
Photo by Karol D on Pexels.com

I said write a paragraph, not draw a graph.
It’s a parabola, a conic section
Do stop showing off.You’ll say next you built the pyramids.
How about Solomon’s temple?
Is he a relative?
It’s hard to know after so many years.
Just because you’ve not been invited there doesn’t mean he’s not your cousin
It would be hard to get there from here
Take the car
It’s the Time travel I fear.
Where do they live? On Mars? Come on.Let’s go.
They used pi to great accuracy, so I read
What, like that man who threw custard tarts onto the faces   of everybody he hated?
I guess it was more fun than Facebook
I could just eat a custard tart
We have no custard left.Sorry,dearest

On forgiveness

asian belief clouds history
Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

 

“What is forgiveness? When is it appropriate? Why is it considered to be commendable?  Some claim that forgiveness is merely about ridding oneself of vengeful anger; do that, and you have forgiven.  But if you were able to banish anger from your soul simply by taking a pill, would the result really be forgiveness?  The timing of forgiveness is also disputed. Some say that it should wait for the offender to take responsibility and suffer due punishment, others hold that the victim must first overcome anger altogether, and still others that forgiveness should be unilaterally bestowed at the earliest possible moment.  But what if you have every good reason to be angry and even to take your sweet revenge as well?  Is forgiveness then really to be commended? Some object that it lets the offender off the hook, confesses to one’s own weakness and vulnerability, and papers over the legitimate demands of vengeful anger.  And yet, legions praise forgiveness and think of it as an indispensable virtue.  Recall the title of Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s book on the subject: “No Future Without Forgiveness.”

If you claim you’ve forgiven someone then take revenge, you’re either dishonest or ignorant of the meaning of the term.

These questions about the what, when, and why of forgiveness have led to a massive outpouring of books, pamphlets, documentaries, television shows, and radio interviews.  The list grows by the hour. It includes hefty representation of religious and self-help perspectives, historical analysis (much of which was sparked by South Africa’s famed Truth and Reconciliation Commission), and increasingly, philosophical reflection as well.  Yet there is little consensus about the answers.  Indeed, the list of disputed questions is still longer. Consider: may forgiveness be demanded, or must it be a sort of freely bestowed gift?  Does the concept of “the unforgivable” make sense?  And what about the cultural context of forgiveness: does it matter? Has the concept of “forgiveness” evolved, even within religious traditions such as Christianity? Is it a fundamentally religious concept?”

See more using the link

The hills are burning  like the peat below

The hills are burning  like the peat below
Turned to steam , the river does not flow
The puzzled sheep meander as they bleat
In beds of heather, they can’t rest or sleep
Such high bright moors , such charring of the rose.

The fires inside the earth   escape to show
It is hell that Satan’s demons  draw.
Energy vibrates  like music fleet
The hills are burning

The weather of the world has no fixed law
Like the sons of Adam and their flaws
This conundrum of the world we meet
The centre  is a  fire, oh, nuclear peat
The open earth has space within its maw
The hills are burning