When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash - at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.
Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there, I do not sleep; I am in a thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glints on snow; I am sunlight on ripened grain; I am the gentle autumn rain; When you awaken in the morning's hush; I am the swift, uplifting rush; Of quiet birds in circling flight; I am the soft starlight at night; Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I do not die;
__Mary Elizabeth Frye; - I Did Not Die
The trees are in their autumn beauty; The woodland paths are dry; Under the October twilight the water; Mirrors a still sky;; Upon the brimming water among the stones; Are nine and fifty swans;
__William Butler Yeats; - The Wild Swans at Coole