The Awakening by James Weldon Johnson

I dreamed that I was a rose
That grew beside a lonely way,
Close by a path none ever chose,
And there I lingered day by day.
Beneath the sunshine and the show’r
I grew and waited there apart,
Gathering perfume hour by hour,
And storing it within my heart,
Yet, never knew,
Just why I waited there and grew.

I dreamed that you were a bee
That one day gaily flew along,
You came across the hedge to me,
And sang a soft, love-burdened song.
You brushed my petals with a kiss,
I woke to gladness with a start,
And yielded up to you in bliss
The treasured fragrance of my heart;
And then I knew
That I had waited there for you.

XXXV by Antonio Machado

Consciousness takes two forms. One is light, the other patience. One involves shining some light into the depths of the sea;
the other on waiting it out,
with a pole or net, waiting for
the fish, like a fisherman.
Tell me, which is better?

The consciousness of the visionary who watches live fish
in the watery depths, fugitives
that will never be caught,
or this cursed job
of tossing up on the sand,
dead, the fish of the sea?

by L.R. Knost

Life is amazing.
And then it’s awful.
And then it’s amazing again.
And in between the amazing and awful
it’s ordinary and mundane and routine.
Breathe in the amazing, hold on through
the awful, and relax and exhale
during the ordinary. That’s just living
heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing,
awful, ordinary life. And it’s
breathtakingly beautiful.

The doer of good by Oscar Wilde

It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the
city.

And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the
feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud
noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the
gate-keepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of
marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within
and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall
of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a
couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and
whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to

him, ‘Why do you live like this?’

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer
and said, ‘But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else
should I live?’

And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were
painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came,
slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours.
Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the
eyes of the young man were bright with lust.

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and
said to him, ‘Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?’

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, ‘But I
was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I
look?’

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and
said to her, ‘Is there no other way in which to walk save the way
of sin?’

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and
said, ‘But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.’

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the
roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and
said to him, ‘Why are you weeping?’

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,
‘But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else
should I do but weep?’

Baldwin By E. Ethelbert Miller

you lie in bed listening,
waiting, fearing the moment
your father returns home. you
listen to voices talking in the
next room and wonder why you are
still afraid of the dark. his voice
in the other room you would love to
kiss. you cannot see your face in the
dark but the blackness is there, like
his back. if only he would
open the door and look at you. maybe
the light would be in his eyes,
his voice.