The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and of you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty, even when it’s not pretty every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the moon, “Yes!”

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you, from the inside out, when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

“A sunset” – a beautiful poem by Victor Hugo

I love the evenings, passionless and fair, I love the evens,
Whether old manor-fronts their ray with golden fulgence leavens,
In numerous leafage bosomed close;
Whether the mist in reefs of fire extend its reaches sheer,
Or a hundred sunbeams splinter in an azure atmosphere
On cloudy archipelagos.

Oh, gaze ye on the firmament! a hundred clouds in motion,
Up-piled in the immense sublime beneath the winds’ commotion,
Their unimagined shapes accord:
Under their waves at intervals flame a pale levin through,
As if some giant of the air amid the vapors drew
A sudden elemental sword.

The sun at bay with splendid thrusts still keeps the sullen fold;
And momently at distance sets, as a cupola of gold,
The thatched roof of a cot a-glance;
Or on the blurred horizon joins his battle with the haze;
Or pools the blooming fields about with inter-isolate blaze,
Great moveless meres of radiance.

Then mark you how there hangs athwart the firmament’s swept track,
Yonder a mighty crocodile with vast irradiant back,
A triple row of pointed teeth?
Under its burnished belly slips a ray of eventide,
The flickerings of a hundred glowing clouds in tenebrous side
With scales of golden mail ensheathe.

Then mounts a palace, then the air vibrates–the vision flees.
Confounded to its base, the fearful cloudy edifice
Ruins immense in mounded wrack;
Afar the fragments strew the sky, and each envermeiled cone
Hangeth, peak downward, overhead, like mountains overthrown
When the earthquake heaves its hugy back.

These vapors, with their leaden, golden, iron, bronzèd glows,
Where the hurricane, the waterspout, thunder, and hell repose,
Muttering hoarse dreams of destined harms,-
‘Tis God who hangs their multitude amid the skiey deep,
As a warrior that suspendeth from the roof-tree of his keep
His dreadful and resounding arms!

All vanishes! The Sun, from topmost heaven precipitated,
Like a globe of iron which is tossed back fiery red
Into the furnace stirred to fume,
Shocking the cloudy surges, plashed from its impetuous ire,
Even to the zenith spattereth in a flecking scud of fire
The vaporous and inflamèd spaume.

O contemplate the heavens! Whenas the vein-drawn day dies pale,
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil?
With love that has not speech for need!
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite:
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night
Fantasy them starre brede.

Heart prints

Heart Prints

Whatever our hands touch…we leave
fingerprints on.
On walls, on furniture, on door knobs,
dishes and books.

As we touch we leave our identity..
Oh please where ever I go today…
help me leave heart prints.

Heart prints of compassion,
understanding and love.
Heart prints of kindness and genuine concern.

May my heart touch a lonely neighbor…
or a runaway daughter…
or an anxious mother…
or perhaps a dear friend!

I shall go out today…
to leave heart prints…
and if some one should say…
“I felt your touch!”

Published by All Day Inspiration and Motivation

Nothing small – beautiful poem

Those who would be great
Are least of all.

Those who are faithful
In all the little things
Discover

There is nothing small
Or unimportant.

When you look upon
With caring and concern,

That is important.

When you inspire another,
When you offer encouragement,

That is important.

Read more of this beautiful text/poem

Hidden Mystery

Hidden Mystery
By Fred Burks


In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the most beautiful jewel
Shining forth eternally

Within that precious jewel
Within that priceless piece of we
Lies a time beyond all time
Lies a place beyond all space

Within that sacred source of radiance
Lies a love beyond all love
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
Ever so patiently

Waiting for you, waiting for me
Waiting patiently for all to see
The beauty that is you inside of me
The beauty that is me inside of thee

In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the love and wisdom
Of all Eternity

Hug Certificate

If I could catch a rainbow
I would do it just for you
and share with you its beauty
On the days you’re feeling blue.

If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own;
A place to find serenity,
A place to be alone.

If I could take your troubles
I would toss them
But all these things I’m finding
are impossible for me.

I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rail
But let me be what I know best,
A friend who’s always there.