When I consider everything that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment;
That this huge stage presenteth naught but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.
– William Shakespeare, an excerpt from “Sonnet 15”
Author: SharonKS
To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
– William Blake, “Auguries of Innocence”, The Pickering Manuscript
Time has come for you, to take you away
From this stage where my life enacts itself.
I suppose it is time for me to face my past,
Something which I was so eager to block out.
You, a diversion snatched up in desperation,
But a friendship discovered unexpectedly.
Thank you, dear friend, for that lifeline
That you unknowingly held out to me,
Waking me from the delusion I had led myself into.
Now I remember the me that was before,
What would have been had I gone down the other path.
Thank you, dear friend, for opening my eyes
You have helped me regain that confidence lost,
Pushing me back on track, back into gear.
You have left those precious footprints in my life,
That I shall cherish, for the memories will be sufficient.
Take care, dear friend, and though I might never see you again,
You shall always be remembered and dear to me.
© Sharon Kaur-Schuelke
I have loved badly, loved the great
Too soon, withdrawn my words too late;
And eaten in an echoing hall
Alone and from a chipped plate
The words that I withdrew too late.
– Edna St. Vincent Millay, Poem from Huntsman, What Quarry? (1939)
To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
– Leo Buscaglia, Living, Loving, and Learning (1982)
…but, friend, to me
He is all fault who hath no fault at all:
For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
– Alfred Lord Tennyson, Idylls of the King, “Elaine”
Tonight once more we shall meet
As I wait in the still of the night
Watching the darkness, once again
You have been delayed.
Your desire a thirst too great to quench the craving
That has embedded itself in your soul forever
Will you be cursed never to redeem your soul
That aches for redemption to love once more
To feel that of which you are incapable
Of expressing human love.
The darkness engulfs me, my thoughts
I feel the teasing of the wind in my hair
The soft whistling as the leaves prepare
To dance the song of death.
© Sharon Kaur-Schuelke
I hold it true, whatever befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
– Alfred Lord Tennyson, “In Memoriam”, Part XXVII
Last night you came to me once more
Like death knocked on my door,
Pure white angels snowy white
Jerked me right out of sleep,
Standing dark and solemn at the foot of my bed
You said let’s fly away over the pale moon,
As warm wind did we embrace
Your touch so cold on my heart,
My soul yearns for the light so warm
So why can’t I see the light at the end of you?
The promise of a new day bright and clear
Brings neither joy nor love into my soul,
Polar regions need no ends
For there is no end to the cold,
Solar regions feel no bends
Because light rays reflect off my soul,
My heart is not yet warm
My soul still so cold,
Take me away from this cruelty
Let me make you my choice.
© Sharon Kaur-Schuelke
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although highth be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
– William Shakespeare, “Sonnet 116”
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel,
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.
– William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Act 1, Scene 3)
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
– Martin Luther King Junior (1968 speech, where he reflects on the Civil Rights Movement)
A friend is one to whom one may pour out all the contents of one’s heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that the gentlest of hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping and, with the breath of kindness, blow the rest away.
– Arabian Proverb
You have hurt me, hurt me deep
You stabbed me once before
And I forgave you
But now you stab me once again
Wounding me deeper than before
Betrayal embeds itself in my heart
Twisting itself viciously
Lurching and thrusting unnaturally
I see the sardonic smile, spreading
The silent scream that no one hears
Disappointment twists in the depths of hope
Leaving behind a tiny shard of doubt
Forever embedding itself in my heart
I hear the malicious laughter
Reverberating through my mind
I am in so much pain, but yet I cannot cry
My mind’s eye, a hazy maze; I cannot think
I know my heart is not my own
That maniacal laughter is all I hear
That cold-blodded smile is all I see
My soul cries out for help
Blood curdling screams that fall on deaf ears
No one hears? No one cares?
The very thought that shatters
The brittle wall of my sanity
Who would throw themselves into this abyss?
No one sees, no one knows; only you and I
How can they help what they cannot see?
How can I tell if I cannot speak?
How can I think if you do not let me?
I want to break free from this pain
But no, I will not die; it shall not be
I must be strong for you
I must hold on for me
For life is such a precious thing
This cancerous pain grows everyday
Engulfing all of me, while I breathe
There is just one truth today
That I know I hate you, but oh, I must forgive
For how can I hate myself?
© Sharon Kaur-Schuelke
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep;
The more I give to you, the more I have,
For both are infinite.
– William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Love does not conquer all, except in Bombay Talkies; rip tear crunch will not be defeated by a mere ceremony; and optimism is a disease.
– Salman Rushdie, Midnight’s Children
Perfect love is rare indeed — for to be a lover will require that you continually have the subtlety of the very wise, the flexibility of the child, the sensitivity of the artist, the understanding of the philosopher, the acceptance of the saint, the tolerance of the scholar and the fortitude of the certain.
– Leo F. Buscaglia, Love (1972)
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt with the sun;
O I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.
– Robert Burns, “A Red, Red Rose”
And all that memory loves the most
Was once our only hope to be:
And all that hope adored and lost
Hath melted into memory.
– Lord Byron, “they say that Hope is Happiness”
How many times do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many thoughts there be
In the atmosphere
Of a new fallen year,
Whose white and sable hours appear
The latest flake of Eternity –
So many times do I love thee, dear.
How many time do I love thee, dear?
Tell me how many beads there are
In a silver chain
Of evening rain
Unravelled from the tumbling main,
And threading the eye of a yellowstar
So many times do I love again.
– Thomas Love Peacock, “Song”
Rainbow of Madness 