Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
Lord Tennyson
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should butn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
Expostulation and Reply
"Why, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your life away?
"Where are your books?-that light bequeathed
To Beings else forlorn and blind!
Up! Up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men and their kind.
"You look round on your Mother Earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!"
One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply.
"The eye-it cannot choose but see;
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against or with our will.
"Nor less I deem that there are powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.
"Thank you, 'mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?
"-Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,
Conversing as I may,
I sit upon this old grey stone,
And dream my time away."
William Wordsworth
The Tables Turned
An Evening Scene on the Same Subject
Up! Up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! Up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom to it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.
She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless-
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.
Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mishapes the beauteous forms of things:-
We murder to dissect.
Enough of Science and of Art;
Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.
William Wordsworth
To study the way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things.
To be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between self and others.
Dogen Zenji
Born Comrade of bird, beast and bee
And unselfconscious as the tree...
Elate explorer of each sense
Without dismay, without pretense...
In your untrained transparent eyes
There is no conscience, no surprise-
Life's queer conundrums you accept
Your strange Divinity still kept...
There were days, O tender elf
When you were poetry itself.
Christopher Morley
Tanzan and Ekido were once traveling together
down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling.
Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk
kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.
"Come on, girl," said Tanzan at once.
Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
Ekido did not speak again until that night when they
had reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer
could restrain himself. "We monks don't go near females,"
he told Tanzan, "especially not young and lovely ones.
It is dangerous. Why did you do that?"
"I left the girl there," said Tanzan.
"Are you still carrying her?"
The Muddy Road
Zen Flesh, Zen Bones:
A collection of Zen and Pre-Zen writings
Paul Reps
You are your own answer,
Beyond books and seers,
Psychics or doctors
Beyond the strength that comes
From what you have accomplished.
Your weakness is as valuable as your strength,
Your helplessness as loveable as your charm.
You are God's child and each step of the way,
He gives you bread and not a stone,
Food and not a serpent.
All is part of the plan, as you look within
And listen to the quiet, persistent voice
That tells you who you are.
There is no strength greater than yours.
No wisdom not available to you.
And Love and Light will flood your being
When you believe deeply enough to know
That you are your own answer
In the beauty and creativity that makes us all one.
No one beyond our love, no one not connected.
Abandon anger and fear to the wind,
Sadness and pseudo-strength to the earth.
Be who you are, in whatever state,
And you will discover
That you are your own answer
In the silence of your heart.
Where all light and power dwell forever.
James Kavanaugh
Dearest friend, I know your pain,
And have felt it for months
in the crevices of my heart
and the far reaches of my soul--
Where I had never dared venture before.
I reach out to you across the miles,
Touch you, hold you, understand your grief
and the torment of your shadows.
And more than this, I love you.
I have felt such pain
When only death promised relief
and no light shone
Anywhere in eyes or on the earth.
Hang on, my friend, step by step,
the beauty will return.
Hold on, beloved one, the days will reappear.
Now the trees are black, the sky is grey,
And the flowers muted like dry grass.
Remember............
The whispered words of love.
There is still life to live, more pure and real
than before,
And there is still love where once
there was only clinging.
There is love, as if it never was before!
James Kavanaugh
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