For Whom the Bell Tolls

“All mankind is of one author, and is one volume;

when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book,

but translated into a better language;

and every chapter must be so translated;

God employs several translators;

some pieces are translated by age,

some by sickness, some by war, some by justice;

but God’s hand is in every translation,

and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves

again for that library where every book

shall lie open to one another.

No man is an island, entire of itself;

every man is a piece of the continent,

a part of the main…

any man’s death diminishes me,

because I am involved in mankind,

and therefore never send to know

for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

No man hath affliction enough

that is not matured and ripened by it,

and made fit for God by that affliction.”

Meditation #17 By John Donne From Devotions upon Emergent Occasions (1623), XVII:
Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris (Now this bell, tolling softly for another, says to me, Thou must die.)

Read the whole Meditation here

Seed of Creativity

A quote from Dubliners by James Joyce in “A Little Cloud”

A light began to tremble on the horizon of his mind…

He tried to weigh his soul to see if it was a poet’s soul. Melancholy was the dominant note of his temperament, he thought, but it was a melancholy tempered by recurrences of faith and resignation and simple joy.”

Untamed

Image

First, a quiet friend, dark glossy coat

hanging around me, peacefully

Grows wilder, lays by me rested

Gazing we lie in mournful wake

I stroke its dark and bristly hair

It grows under my care

Follows me everywhere

A loyal friend.

Soon overlooked by daily haste

Untamed, unkempt, rejected

It grows fierce and growls

Paces the floor, I lie awake

Our hearts race

The growing shadow of hairy beast

Takes a swipe, deflected

It claws and prowls, surrounds my all

Steals prized possessions

Forces me back, there’s worse in stall

Let it end – save it takes my all

Grief untended.

For Karen

You with your hands

held high in the air

Blank stare on your face

Your words said with flair

Still, we both pray for Karen.

You with your bells

and your smells in the air

With robes and peak caps

And ceremonial fare

Still, we both pray for Karen.

You with your book

and your words fill the air

Nods all around

Words just and fair

Still, we both pray for Karen.

Me with my morning

and evening, night air

Hands closed to my head

Soul emptied of cares

Lying still, we all pray for Karen.

Them with their sun

and full moon on the rise

Empty words in the air

Suspicions of lies

Still, we all care for Karen.