A poem by Pablo Neruda

I remember you as you were that final autumn. You were a gray beret and the whole being at peace. In your eyes the fires of the evening dusk were battling, and the leaves were falling in the waters of your soul. As attached to my arms as a morning glory, Your sad, slow voice…

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Rumi (3)

Peaceful is the one who’s not concerned with having more or less Unbound by name and fame he is free from sorrow from the world and mostly from himself. ………….. When compassion fills my heart, free from all desire, I sit quietly like the earth. My silent cry echoes like thunder throughout the universe. ………………

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Life is a wayside flower

Originally posted on Jemverse:
Saw a little wayside flower growing right there in the street Finding just enough moisture to prosper down there at my feet It seemed like a really fine testament to all that life truly means For there’s always beauty to be found Where and whenever it seems So here’s to wayside…

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