I have thought it all before, I have gone through it all before. Yes there are differences but for goodness sake how many times do I need to see the same film, review the same book, read the same page?
Except now, I am tierd of dealing with it, the trials have become stale. How come I haven't learned from them yet, how come am I still running around in the hamster wheel?
Well I guess that's just what happens when you review your old journal writings and can see that you were thinking about the same things 3 years ago... that you are thinking about now. Maybe I just haven't found the answers yet.
Here's something from my journal...
Nov. 26, 2005
This is from a book I was reading I think it's beautiful:
And this is the comfort of the good, that the grave cannot hold them, and they live as soon as they die. For death is no more than a turning us over from time to eternity. Death then being the way and condition of life, we cannot love to live if we cannot bear to die. They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it, death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same divine principle, the root and record of their friendship. If absence be not death neither is there’s, death is but crossing the world as friends to the seas.
~ William Penn
This is some reflecting upon my childhood: (It is not a finished or a perfect poem, I break with it, but don't feel like fixing it right now)...
At times my soul aches, from poetries loss, how poetic the soul, how pathetic the heart. Longingly I search for the balm of my soul, Giliad hides the cure. Poetic my life, poetic. As a child all life was poetic, the fairies and friends of the forest where mine. With fanciful names and fanciful fears we played many games and shed many tears. The trees held our secrets like the tree old as time. Under that tree we held as a shrine, a place for our pets beloved and true, Spooky and Precious and even fish too. In other times our childish ways, led to great battles that lasted for days. My brother and I would fight many crimes, with our guns that had caps and our brave police hats. Round fabulous piles of rubble we played, we sometimes built forts, and sometimes found caves. The bushes we played in were overgrown, but at times, they served a good purpose in our nursery rhymes. Sailing along, in a ship made of wood, we were out to find treasure, it was going to be good. We had many things brought along for the trip, all the accoutrements for a good pirate ship. A picnic, some plates, a table for two, but wait I don’t want to play house with you. Then came the snow and away we shall go. Out come the skis, then hats, and boots if you please. Our fairy land is transformed it is true, down fairy hill, first me and then you. We ski till our noses are red, and snow covers the hair on top of our head. So into the house, we march along, singing Jingle Bells our favorite song. Hot cocoa is called for we prepare it with ease, then suddenly feel a cold winter breeze. Quick shut the door, you forgot it! No you! But quickly forget our cold and fight too. Down falls the snow, we snuggle in bed. Beautiful snow dreams soon fill our head, childhood, childhood where have you gone? My soul will miss you, then to sleep, then to dream, in memory my soul will long.
This is an unfinished poem:
The dark of night, the soulful cry. Cry my love, cry. When hours have passed, when days are gone, we shall find that we once were wrong. Not love as lovers, but love as friends, sister and brother from heaven amends. How oft’ are we gathered as chicks? How oft’? Yet we turn away, our own thoughts, our own way, stubborn, foolish, ignorant. Can I accept a good life, can you? Can we leave things as they are? We must for time will see us fools, so we must read the book as written. Once penned can a mere reader change, what was written there? No man is an island, no not even we. A life lived, a life changed, it's as heaven decreed. . .