― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
All the years lead to this…
― Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
I am thankful for my health
I didn’t always have it
I am thankful for my home
It wasn’t always perfect and it still isn’t but I’m thankful
I am thankful for my family
They are safe, they have homes, they are loved
I am thankful that I have the ability to get up and go to work
I am thankful that I have the ability to provide for those who need me
I am thankful that I will be able to look at myself one day,
be happy for all that I am,
and know it is because I am thankful.
it is because I can see…
There are countless faces
Millions of places
Where life is life
With or without circumstance
and change is hard coming
Many have nothing to be thankful for
Be thankful and see
Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.
Oprah Winfrey
Loved This!!!!!!!
What if Reality
doesn’t believe
in affirmations
or that Hope can float
safely to shore?
What if Faith
secretly harbors
only dark truths
within her blinding
white, bright, smile?
What if Tomorrow
considers himself free
and has no desire
to form any ties
to past or present?
Then again,
What if Tomorrow wakes
finding himself
in bed with the present,
intertwined in a dream
that Faith envisioned
long before she smiled
invitingly, and offered her hand
to the hand of Hope
who stepped carefully
onto dry land once again,
looking Reality square in the eyes
before lifting her gaze to face
a new destiny?
~ smj
Both Sides Now, by Joni Mitchell
I am wandering down the halls of my mind… There are doors I keep wanting to open. The ghosts of experiences that are crying for my attention. I recall them, then I slam them shut. I would rather run, than face them, even one. I built the walls, strong. Never once letting them falter, never once letting them down.
The people.
The places.
The thoughts.
The spaces.
*
They made me… yet I made myself…
They shaped me… yet I overcame myself
Through loss and gain, my thoughts made me sane.
I played the game… and ever did I change.
First and above all Dad.
L and J, was it me or was it them?
The ground where it burned
The home which was always cold.
I didn’t belong.
I still don’t.
Yet now I’m home, and the ghosts are crying for my attention.
*
I listen as I write, waiting for what I am trying to say. Yet the thoughts remain the same.
I know what I overcame, yet that which made me is slowly driving me insane…
*
I know the answer, yet I don’t want to hear…
It is in there, trying to form itself clear…
Is it me?
Please answer my fears…
it is, but its ok