Soul Healing Literature
This is a page full of works which have made an impact on the way I feel about my life which I would like to share with you.
If
I had only known
Time
The
little boy and the old man
The
Old Men
Death
If
I had only known
By Craig Morris/Jana Stanfield
If I had only known it was our last walk in the
rain
I'd keep you out for hours in the storm
I would hold your hand, like a lifeline to my
heart
And underneath the thunder we'd be warm
If I had only known it was our last walk in the
rain
If I had only known I'd never hear your voice
again
I'd memorise each thing you ever said
And on these lonely nights, I could think of
them once more
And keep your words alive inside my head
If I had only known I'd never hear your voice
again
You were the treasure in my heart
You were the one who always stood by me
So unaware, I foolishly believed that you would
always be there
But then there came a day when I closed my eyes
and you slipped away
If I had only known it was my last night by your
side
I'd pray a miracle would stop the dawn
And when you smiled at me, I would look into
your eyes
And make sure you know my love for you goes on
and on
If I had only known, if I had only known
The love I would have shown
If I had only known.
Imagine there is a bank which credits your account
each morning with $86,400.
It carries over no balance from day to day, allows
you to keep no cash balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of
the amount you had failed to use during the day. What would you do?
Draw out every cent, of course!
Well, everyone has such a bank...
Its name is TIME.
Every morning it credits you with 86,400 seconds.
Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever
of this you have failed to invest to good purpose.
It carries over no balance. It allows no
overdraft.
Each day it opens a new account for you.
Each night it burns the remains of the day.
If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss
is yours. There is no going back.
There is no drawing against the "tomorrow".
You must live in the present on today's deposits.
Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in
health, happiness and success.
The clock is ticking!
MAKE THE MOST OF TODAY.
To realise the value of ONE YEAR, ask a student
who have failed a grade.
To realise the value of ONE MONTH, ask a mother
who has given birth to a premature baby.
To realise the value of ONE WEEK, Ask an editor
of a weekly newspaper.
To realise the value of ONE DAY, ask a daily
wage labourer who has kids to feed.
To realise the value of ONE HOUR, ask the lovers
who are waiting to meet.
To realise the value of ONE MINUTE, ask a person
who has missed the train.
To realise the value of ONE SECOND, ask the person
who has avoided an accident.
To realise the value of ONE MILLISECOND, ask
the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics.
Treasure every moment that you have. And
treasure it more because you have shared it with someone special, special
enough to spend your time......
And remember that time waits for no one......
Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow a mystery.
Today is a gift.
HAPPY DAYS
The
little boy and the old man
Shel Silverstein
Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the little old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
" I do that too," laughed the old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded. "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, " it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.
When there was a war,
They went to war.
When there was peace, they went to the labour
exchange,
or carried Hods on an hour's notice.
If their complaints were heard in heaven, no
earthly sign was given.
They have suffered obscurely through a bleak recurring
dream,
many lifetimes long.
Made idle to satisfy the greed of their betters.
Wounded and gassed for noble causes they were
not thought fit to understand.
Lectured when it suited the state,
Ignored when it suited the state,
Flattered by comedians,
Studied by young sociologists,
They have survived to be cosseted by the regional
medical board.
They sit on a low stone wall in front of the home.
They puff black pipes,
Their small eyes see dead wives and children
who emigrated.
They talk about the evening meal,
And that old bugger George, who's going senile.
When they walk in, they tread softly.
Not touching the earth to stay beneath them for
much longer.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunshine on ripened grain,
I am the authum rain.
When you awake in the morning bush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of birds circling in flight,
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I
hope that these pieces have provoked certain meaningful thoughts...
