Climb 'Til Your Dream Comes True
by: Helen Steiner Rice

Often your tasks will be many,
And more than you think you can do.
Often the road will be rugged
And the hills insurmountable, too.
But always remember,
The hills ahead
Are never as steep as they seem,
And with Faith in your heart
Start upward
And climb 'til you reach your dream.
For nothing in life that is worthy
Is ever too hard to achieve
If you have the courage to try it,
And you have the faith to believe.
For faith is a force that is greater
Than knowledge or power or skill,
And many defeats turn to triumph
If you trust in God's wisdom and will.
For faith is a mover of mountains,
There's nothing that God cannot do,
So, start out today with faith in your heart,
And climb 'til your dream comes true!

When the Horses Gallop Away from Us, It's a Good Thing

by Charles Wright


I always find it strange—though I shouldn't—how creatures don't
care for us the way we care for them.
Horses, for instance, and chipmunks, and any bird you'd name.
Empathy's only a one-way street.

And that's all right, I've come to believe.
It sets us up for ultimate things,
and penultimate ones as well.
It's a good lesson to have in your pocket when the Call comes to
call.

Can not say I know all;
BUT, know the feeling for I felt.
In silent pride we carry ourselves

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kL_zuWHrLdI

Lyrics to Roll Away Your Stone :

Roll away your stone I will roll away mine
Together we can see what we will find
Don't leave me alone at this time
For I am afraid of what I will discover inside

You told me that I wouldn't find a home
Beneath the fragile substance of my soul
And I have filled this void with things unreal
And all the while my character it steals

Darkness is a harsh term don't you think
Yet it dominates the things I see

It seems that all my bridges have been burned
But you say 'That's exactly how this grace thing works’
It's not the long walk home that will change this heart
But the welcome I receive with the re-start

Darkness is a harsh term don't you think
And yet it dominates the things I see (x2)

Stars hide your fires
For these here are my desires
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so I will be found
With my stake stuck in the ground
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul (x2)

And you, you've gone too far this time
You have neither reason nor rhyme
With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine


'momford and sons'


David

Thanks David...this video makes me think of Mango Shade..but he was before your time I think. He would have loved this song! And the surfing!

you want it all , you want it now............
but you want it your way..explain how?

how do i change my train of thought
& forget the the things of life i brought

to give in now, will break my resolve
just live your life and please evolve

the mothers love you cannot stand
is embedded inside your ungrateful hand

in times to come when you need of thee
be sure to love..and on bended knee.

you broke my heart one week ago
your mothers love went long ago

to tap back in to family trust
our rules to follow.... is one holy must



David

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qP6JD...layer_embedded

I was struck by the reality of killing family members left behind.

by Philip Schultz
In summer the polleny light bounces off the white buildings
& you can see their spines & nerves & where the joints knot.
You've never seen such polleny light. The whole city shining
& the women wearing dresses so thin you could see their wing-tipped hips
& their tall silvery legs alone can knock your eye out.
But this isn't about women. It's about the city of blue waters
& fog so thick it wraps round your legs & leaves glistening trails
along the dark winding streets. Once I followed such a trail
& wound up beside this redheaded woman who looked up & smiled
& let me tell you you don't see smiles like that in Jersey City.
She was wearing a black raincoat with two hundred pockets
& I wanted to put my hands in each one. But forget about her.
I was talking about the fog which steps up & taps your shoulder
like a panhandler who wants bus fare to a joint called The Paradise
& where else could this happen? On Sundays Golden Gate Park
is filled with young girls strolling the transplanted palms
& imported rhododendron beds. You should see the sunset
in their eyes & the sway, the proud sway of their young shoulders.
Believe me, it takes a day or two to recover. Or the trolleys clanking
down the steep hills—why you see legs flashing like mirrors! Please, Lord, please let me talk about San Francisco. How
that gorilla of a bridge twists in the ocean wind & the earth
turns under your feet & at any moment the whole works can crack
& slip back into the sea like a giant being kicked off his raft
& now, if it's all right, I would like to talk about women...

"San Francisco Remembered," by Phillip Schultz

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.



David

The shape of my vessel is two dimensional
The beginning and end, the middle lasts no time.
My matter travels through the tightest of spaces
One grain of me follows the other, in harmony or rage.
I feel the pull of gravity, yet try to stem it daily
Occasionally I freely go with the tide of time.
Often those around me are similar of thought
Though once in a moment their company is overwhelming.
I speed my motion to remove myself from their presence
Yet I meet them or similar along this journey of time.
The warmth of closeness and the rush of wind and air
The outward reflection of the earth, are mere rooms.
My time is near its end I am but a grain of sand
In this hour glass of time, will I ever revolve again?

by
David