Landscapes Of Life

Like patterns in a landscape are the dreams I left behind;
a tapestry of memories that never more will bind.

A freedom from that tight control that once imprisoned life,
now open minded abstractness releases me from strife.

The colors of the world are imprinted deeply on my soul.
So why feel black and dismal when peace can be the goal?

To hold a rainbow in your hand, to feel the colors glow;
deep down within your heart,
let the feelings flow...

The red is so flamboyant, and it cannot be restrained,
but without it, no excitement,
and the heart is sorely pained.

Warm orange is a balance that combines the best of all,
the promise of a fresh new spring;
the calmness of the fall.

Then yellow bursts into full bloom,
and happiness bursts free,
chasing out those phantom ghosts that dwell inside of me!

Fresh green of new born thought buds,
so virginal and pure,
new in it's simplicity, so comforting and sure.

At times moods come that are painted blue,
but balance is the thing... mysterious depths of indigo
will send blues on the wing.

Then violet, oh sweet violet, your color does enthrall!
It fills my very essence, and invades my all in all.

You see; life is just a canvas on the landscape of the mind,
and the way in which we paint it is ours solely to decide...

So fight your way out of the mud, and keep the colors clear...
and when you've won that battle,
you will see God is very near.

Unknown

The Indian Serenade

I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep or night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me-who knows how? -
To thy chamber-window, sweet!

The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream,-
The champak odors fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must die on thine,
O, beloved as thou art!

O, lift me from the grass!
I die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
Oh! press it close to thine again,
Where it will break at last!

Percy Bysshe Shelley