Death

AtlasContemplative

Today someone died You might have known them But maybe not Anyone could have known them But maybe no one at all But for all we know they died And they're gone forever

Atlas

SourceLicence:CC BY

Mood:: Contemplative
Topics:: death, stranger, forever

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Atlas

I Am Broken

I have shattered I loved someone and wished for them to love me I am broken because that person said no to me I am torn for this person may never love me I am broken

In the same mood

George Herbert

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd, if Peace were there, A hollow wind did seem to answer, No: Go seek elsewhere. I did; and going did a rainbow note: Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat: I will search out the matter. But while I looked the clouds immediately Did break and scatter. Then went I to a garden and did spy A gallant flower, The crown-imperial: Sure, said I, Peace at the root must dwell.

Emily Dickinson

Nature -- the Gentlest Mother is,

Nature -- the Gentlest Mother is, Impatient of no Child -- The feeblest -- or the waywardest -- Her Admonition mild -- In Forest -- and the Hill -- By Traveller -- be heard -- Restraining Rampant Squirrel -- Or too impetuous Bird -- How fair Her Conversation -- A Summer Afternoon -- Her Household -- Her Assembly -- And when the Sun go down -- Her Voice among the Aisles Incite the timid prayer Of the minutest Cricket -- The most unworthy Flower --

John Donne

Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified

If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my fathers soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hells wide mouth o'erstride: But if our minds to these souls be descried By circumstances, and by signs that be Apparent in us, not immediately, How shall my mind's white truth by them be tried? They see idolatrous lovers weep and mourn, And vile blasphemous conjurers to call On Jesus name, and Pharisaical Dissemblers feigne devotion. Then turn, O pensive soul, to God, for he knows best Thy true grief, for he put it in my breast.

On the same theme

01To----Edgar Allan Poe
02I never lost as much but twiceEmily Dickinson
03Since Thou Hast Given Me This Good Hope, O GodRobert Louis Stevenson

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