This That & More

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The Gift to Sing

James Weldon Johnson, 1871 - 1938

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,

And blackening clouds about me cling;

But, oh, I have a magic way

To turn the gloom to cheerful day—

I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still,

Shadowed by Sorrow’s somber wing,

With glad defiance in my throat,

I pierce the darkness with a note,

And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past,

Nor dread whatever time may bring;

No nights are dark, no days are long,

While in my heart there swells a song,

And I can sing.

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“Salute” - A poem by A. R. Ammons

May happiness pursue you,

catch you often, and,

should it lose you,

be waiting ahead,

making a clearing for you

from The Really Short Poems of A. R. Ammons

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Acceptance by Robert Frost

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night bee too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.'

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It is essential to practice reading as an art

Nietzche (@PhilosophyMuse)