ODYSSEYS OF MAHINDA VITO

8/7/2019 ODYSSEYS OF MAHINDA VITO

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ODYSSEYS OF MAHINDA VITO


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A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him up for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness

that even lovers drown. To fall in love is easy; even to remain in it is notdifficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. There comes a time whenWe walk out all alone and into the light The moment won't last but then, weremember it again when we close our eyes. For it is a hard enough a questworth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence onebecomes what one desires to be. We search for happiness everywhere, butwe, like Tolstoy's fabled beggar who spend our lives sitting on a pot of gold

the whole time. Our treasure, our perfection is within. But to claim it, onemust leave the busy commotion of the mind and abandon the desires of theego and enter into the silence of the heart. Look ahead and never turn your back on the caress of your dreams, your hopes and then, turn towards theday that will be. Like the stars across the sky we were born to shine. Like theearth, a bit of dust beneath our feet, Hearts are not had as gifts but earned bythose who are not entirely beautiful. I know that I shall meet my fate

somewhere. Those that I fight I do not hate those that I guard I do not love,Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery, that she wouldof late have taught to ignorant men most violent ways? Life will break you,and living alone won't protect you either, for solitude will only lade youwith yearning. You have to love. You have to feel, for she goes where shepleases. She appears unhoped for, uncalled for. She moves through doors andwalls and windows. Her thoughts move through minds. She enters dreams,

vanishes and is still there.


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The untold want, by life and land never granted,Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.

O friend, for the morrow let us not worrythis moment we have now, let us not hurry

when our time comes, we shall not tarryIn the end things must be as they are and have always been.

The great things remain for the great,The abysses for the profound,

The delicacies and thrills for the refined,And everything rare for the rare.

My hope still is to leave the worldA bit better than when I got here

No need to feel guilty if you can't be a good man all the time.But anytime your heart is feeling so eager

To do even a small good deed,then a good chance is for you to be a better man.

The world, my dear, is a strange affair.Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask,

'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me,'This is going to take more than one night.

Because each of you has his or her own death,You carry it with you in a secret place

From the moment you're born,It belongs to you and you belong to it.

And at some point you realize thatThere are more flavours of heartache than coffee.

There's the little empty pain of leaving something behind,Graduating, taking the next step forward,

Walking out of something familiar and safe into the unknown.There's the big, whirling pain of life

Upending all of your plans and expectations.There are the sharp little pains of failure,And the more obscure aches of successes

That didn't give you what you thought they would.

There are the vicious, stabbing pains of hopes being torn up.The sweet little pains of finding others, giving them your love,


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And taking joy in their life as they grow and learn.There's the steady pain of empathy that you shrug off

So you can stand beside a wounded friendAnd help them bear their burdens.

And if you are very, very lucky,There are a few blazing hot little pains you feel

When you realize that you are standing in a momentOf utter perfection, an instant of triumph,

Or happiness, or mirth which at the same time cannot possibly last,And yet will remain with you for life.

I don't suppose you have to believe in ghostsTo know that we are all haunted,

All of us, by things we can see and feel and guess at,And many more things that we can't.

Everyone is down on pain,Because they forget something important about it:Pain is for the living. Only the dead don't feel it.

For A man follows the path laid out for him.And his duty is to God. He does what he must do,

What kind of world would this be,If every man did what pleased him alone?

In this world there is a place for every man,But every man must know his place.

I pray that the road is long and a merry one.A pretty girl and an honest one.A cold pint of -and another one!

Singing cest la vie


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When to the session of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:

Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,

And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:

Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I knew pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,all losses are restored and sorrows end.

Shakespeare wrote to a dear friend. We'll be Friends forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.

Even longer,' Pooh answered." Thank you for knowing who I am,Understanding where i have been,

Accepting what i have become, And caring beyond my flaws You are my best of friend

As well as my beloved, And I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most.

I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together


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Where there is ruin,There is hope for a treasure

Not far a time gone byMen were kind with voices soft

their words were inviting,And love was blind.

The world a song so exciting.If you see through time,

If you knew of consequencesWould you'd be doomed?

Would you be ruined?Would you be a stone?

Would you ever eat or drink?Laugh or get out of bed in the morning?

Would you ever dare?Once, I was young and unafraidwhen dreams were made, usedAnd wasted without ransom

Hope was high and life worth livinglove would never die, no song unsung,

All dying to live!With my heart to the ground

Am in ruin, am in ruin,O God, I beg my face you forget not,

I bow my shameful face in submission,For what am I but a creature of the hour

With a basket of dreams beneath your skies.Bare ruined choir, where the sweet birds sang.

In me I await the twilight of such dayAs after sunset fades in the west,

Which by and by black night does take away,May I Embrace the new dawn

One of a spotless sunshine.O how impious a thing it is

That leads a man to sin. (Tears, tears, tears.)


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In every journey comes a moment, one like no other. And in that moment,you must decide between who you are, and who you want to be. I pray that

when that moment comes may my heart be kind, my mind fierce, and myspirit brave. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to takethis journey; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your

heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you wereforbidden the write.

And in the most silent hour of your night ask yourself: must I write? Dig intoyourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet

this solemn question with a strong, simple I must, then build your life inaccordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and

most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.Somehow difficulties are easier to endure when you know your dream is

waiting for you at the end. Describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughtsthat pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty -

describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you

express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams,and the objects that you remember. If your everyday life seems poor, dont

blame it; blame yourself; admit to yourself that you are not enough of a poetto call forth its riches; because for the creator there is not poverty and nopoor, indifferent place. And even if you found yourself in a prison, whose

walls let in none of the worlds sounds wouldnt you still have your childhood, that jewel beyond all price, that treasure house of memories?

Turn your attentions to it. Try to rise up the sunken feelings of thisenormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will

expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where thenoise of other people passes by, far in the distance. - And if out of this

turning-within, out of this immersion in your own world, poems come, thenyou will not think of asking anyone whether they are good or not. Nor willyou try to interest magazines in these works: for you will see them as your

dear natural possession, a piece of your life, a voice from it. A work of art isgood if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.


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When one lacks gratitude, something is amiss in his or her humanity. Aperson can be, depending on their gratitude. Let us earnestly be grateful to

the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who makeour souls blossom. Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a

relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. Or you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you daredrecognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just

took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and did not allowyourself the consideration of its sacredness. But when it's over and you areforlorn, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together,

nor the sunsets and worrying together. It was everything; it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. A piece to the mystery of

existence is the love you share sometimes so imperfectly, and when the losswakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off

your knees for a long time, not by the weight of the loss that pounds heavy,but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there,but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take

solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.My dear friend, what is this our life? A boat that swims in the sea, and allone knows for certain about it is that one day it will capsize. Here we are,two good old boats that have been faithful neighbours, and above all your

hand has done its best to keep me from "capsizing"! Let us then continue our voyageeach for the other's sake (uno para el otro porque s), for a long

time yet, a long time! You pray in your distress and in your need; would thatyou might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of

abundance. I pray we miss each other so much! Tolerably calm seas and goodwinds and above all sun. What I wish for myself, I wish for you too, and amsorry that my gratitude can find expression only in such a wish and has no

influence at all on wind or weather!The boats may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas. The

challenging days of our existence may or may not be bright and promising.Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights, I maintain an attitude of

gratitude. If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.Today I am blessed.


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I have found that I can truly loveI have found you. You are my sympathy, my better self

My good angel. I am bound to you.I think you good, gifted, lovely:

A fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart;It leans to you; wrap an existence about you

And, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.In time, the hurt begins to fade and it becomes easier to just let it go.

But in every girl I met in the next few years,I found myself looking for you,

I'd write you another letter.But I never sent them for fear of what I might find

Mercy I plead, on such do not indict meFor there is a desire within each of us,

In the depth of us that is never completely satisfied,And it never dies. Often unaware we maybe of it,

But it is always awake. The Human desire for Love.Every person yearns to love, to be loved, to know love.

Our true identity and a reason for being are to be found in this desire."Why" of life, and the grace that makes all goodness possible.

Perhaps it should come first, be the beginning of,And the reason for everything.Love is the very essence of life.

The pot of gold at the end and beginning of the rainbow.It springs the beauty that arched across the sky on a stormy day.

The security for which children weep, the yearning of youth

It is the peace of old age, the sunlight of hope shining through death.Like faith, Love, is a gift of God.

A most enduring and powerful virtue.

Once I thought If only I could tear out my heart,Hurl it into the bed of river piedra,

Then my pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget,Alas! To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further.

What other pearl is to be found in the dark folds of life?


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May my tears run just as far, that my love might never know that one day Icried.

May they run just as far, that I might forget the River Piedra.I shall forget the roads, the mountains, and the fields of my dreams that will

never come true.And remember my magic moment, that instant

When a yes or a no can change ones life forever.Seek to live. Remembrance is for the old, the wise of old say.

Perhaps love makes us old before our time, or young, if youth has passed.Those moments, those moments to recall. That is why I write this song,So the birds can turn sadness into longing, solitude into remembrance

And I shall not toss it into the river.Be not afraid to pursue your most important dreams,Because you feel that they are not worthy of them,

Or that theyll be unable to achieve them.We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away

forever,Or of moments that could have been good but werent,

Or of treasures that might have been foundBut lay forever hidden in the sands.

These things happen, we suffer terribly.In the larger scheme of things, the most beautiful people

We have known are those who have known defeat,Known suffering, known struggle, known loss,And have found their way out of the depths.

With an understanding of life that fills them with compassion,Gentleness and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

Let us say in passing, to be blind and to be loved, is in factOne of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness.

To have continually at your side a woman, a girl, a sister, a charming being,Who is there because you need her,

To be able at all times to measure her affectionBy the presence that she gives you, and to say to yourself:

She dedicates her time to me, because I possess her whole love;To see the thought if not the face;

To imagine the rustling of her dress.To hear her moving to and fro, going out, coming in,


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Talking, singing, to think that you are the cause of those steps,Those words, that song;

To become in darkness, and by reason of darkness, the star Around which this angel gravitates; few joys can equal that.

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved;Loved for ourselves--say rather, loved in spite of us;

The conviction the blind have.In their calamity, to be served is to be caressed.

Are they deprived of anything? No.Light is not lost where love enters.

And what a love! A love wholly founded in purity.There is no blindness where there is certainty


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Do you love me?' I asked her. She smiled. 'Yes.' 'Do you want me to behappy?' as I asked her this I felt my heart beginning to race. 'Of course I do.'

'Will you do something for me then?' she looked away, sadness crossing her features. 'I dont know if I can anymore.' she said. 'But if you could, wouldyou?' I cannot adequately describe the intensity of what I was feeling at thatmoment. Love, anger, sadness, hope, and fear, whirling together sharpenedby the nervousness I was feeling. She looked at me curiously and my breathsbecame shallower. Suddenly I knew that Id never felt as strongly for another person as I did at that moment. As I returned her gaze, this simple

realization made me wish for the millionth time that I could make all this goaway. Had it been possible, I would have traded my life for hers. I wanted totell her my thoughts, but the sound of her voice suddenly silenced theemotions inside of me. 'Yes' she finally said, her voice weak yet somehowstill full of promise. I would.' finally getting control of myself I felt myself kiss her brow, and then brought my hand to her face, gently running myfingers over her cheek. I marvelled at the softness of her skin, the gentleness

I saw in her eyes. Even now she was perfect. My throat began to tightenagain, but as I said, I knew what I had to do. I had to accept that it was notwithin my power to cure her, deep in my heart I knew; I may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if sheloves me now, what else matters? She's not perfect neither am I, and thetwo of us may never be perfect together but if I can make her laugh, makeher stronger, make her smile and be there for her, and admit to being human

and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most I can, what elsematters? She may not be thinking about me every second of the day, but shewill give me a part of her that she knows I can break - her heart. So don'thurt her, don't change her, don't analyze and don't expect more than she cangive. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes youmad, and miss her when she's not there. Hmm! For a moment my mouth wasdry. What I wanted to do was give her something that she wanted. It was

what my heart had been telling me to do all along. She, I understood then,had already given me the answer id been searching for, the answer my heart


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needed to find. Shed told me at the lounge, the night we actually hadsomething for each others ears. I smiled softly, and she returned myaffection with a slight gaze into my eyes, as if trusting me in what I was

about to do. Encouraged, I leaned closer; my knee touching hers took a deepbreath. When I exhaled, these were the words that flowed with my breath,loud in my mind, 'will you marry me?" -


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I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with commonthoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments to be

dedicated to me and my name might soon be forgotten, but if I do right byher, this will always been enough. so I leaned against the table, looking outat the pale and glittering night, and realised The best love is the kind that

awakens the soul and makes us reach for more, that plants a fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds. And that's what she gives me, so I felt,and what I'd hoped to give her in return. I gently put her hand in mine, andthought to myself o how I prayed for one more chance to reach you, to tell

you how much tenderness you aroused in me. What she saw behind myeyes she never told me. Dreams are always crushing when they don't cometrue. But it's the simple dreams that are often the most painful because they

seem so personal, so reasonable, and so attainable. You're always closeenough to touch, but never quite close enough to hold and it's enough to

break your heart. I held her close to me with my eyes, wondering if anything in my life had ever been this seamless and unadulterated; the

feeling was even more wonderful than I ever imagined it could be.Something rare and beautiful, for now I know that a feeling so intense like

that has only happened once, and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it. I

touched her face again, her dimpled beauty sunk in the palm of my hands,right there in my blissful insanity I wanted to ask her to take me and cut meout in little stars across the sky, and maybe I will make the face of heaven so

fine that she might fall in love with that gentle night and be with me always.Poets often describe it as a heightened sensation that we can't control, one

that overwhelms logic and common sense. That's what its like. I didn't planthis, and I doubt if she did either. But once we met, it was clear that it was

happening to us. As she sunk in my arms riding home.


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A weary pilgrimI glory in one day to fill the stage

hours creep in a petty pace,Alas the curtains fall.The flourishing array

today so greenAnd is tomorrow hay.

O this dial,How the shades devour

my short-lived day!Behold these lilies,Which Thy hands have made

how soon they droop,How soon they fade!Blame not the clock

Night will blind too soon;

my day already points to noon;how simple is my suit!How small my boon!

Nor do I beg anothers whilethe time here falsely to beguile

my thoughts with joyHeres nothing worth a smile

Save my beloved is mineAs I am my beloveds.


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For all the Light that lies inside of me,For the Darkness that lies inside of me

For the Love that lies deep inside of meTeach me Thy ways I pray.

That I a better person may beLet me look well to this day,

And those to come by your will,For it and it alone, this brief course, is life.

Knowing it alone is not the essence of my existence:

Nor Glory of Growth Satisfaction of Achievement,Nor Splendor of Beauty,

For my pain is the rupture of the shellThat envelopes my understanding.

And could I keep my heart in wonder At the daily miracles of your life?

Then my pain would not seem less wondrous than my joy.


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I wanted to wake the poor manSuddenly the hand ready to stir him drew back,

Frightened of the thing I was to do.Dreams no matter how appalling are still dreams.If there be meaning to life at all, my sweet suffering

Is an ingrained part of the sacrifice.Year by year, making effort, striving to accomplish,

Even as fate, even as death, without which life would beincomplete.

But what is it we die to live for?From day to day, hour to hour, man to manThis life is unlike, tragic optimism some will say,

Well-being and happiness never appeared to me an absolute aimBut when I touch her face, in her smile I gather its what I live for.The pain and the glory of my loneliness and solitude all washed a

sea.

Fortunately in her kindness and patience,The fatal question in the mouths of many I seek not to askNor need an answer.

I embrace my blissful insanity that unfetters me,A fleeting glimpse of her cheek on my palm.

Shall I wake to all this a dream?O let there be another, even as cats and do it all a new.


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My wants are but little here below Little I ask; my wants are butfew;

only wish a place of home, That I may call my own;And close at hand such a one, to hold and to stow.

School myself to savour most Joys that have but little cost;My cares are but a few; plain is quite enough for me;

Three courses are as good as ten; I only ask that fortune sendA little more than I shall spend.

The best of life is free, Sun and stars and sky and sea;eager in my eyes to please, what do I see?

Honours are meaningless, I know, and titles barren; why care for such unfruitful things;

Music, books and honest friends outweigh golden dividends.Vain display of importance is seek not, a home to love and heart to

prayThus humble let me live and die, a modest man in the streets that

front the sunIf Heavens more generous gifts deny, I shall not miss them much,

Too grateful for the blessing lent Of simple tastes and heartcontent!


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Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; someblunders and absurdities crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow

is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to beencumbered with your old nonsense once a fine writer wrote. Well, youcan't change your fate, just the attitude, so count your age by friends, not

years, your life by smiles, not tears, for the very least you can do in your lifeis figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that

hope. Not admire it from a distance, but live right inside of it, under its roof.And light a candle while at it than curse in the dark. The world is indeed fullof peril and in it there are many obscure places. But still there is much that is

fair. And though love is oft mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, thegreater. For only when the day is scrapped off the night can you see the

stars. Sometimes the questions are complicated for their answers so simple, abird only sings because it has a song, so be patient toward all that is unsolvedin your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and

like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seekthe answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to

live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant

day into the answer.


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Have courage and patienceFor the great and small sorrows of life;

And when your day is done,Go to sleep in peace. God is awake.

For a man will never have time in this life for everything.Nor enough seasons for every purpose.

he needs to love and to hate at the same moment,to laugh and cry with the same eyes,

with the same hands throw and gather,make love in war and war in love.

Hate and forgive and remember and forgethow much time does below the sun?He loses he seeks, he finds he forgets.

He tries and he misses,gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,

drunk and blind in his pleasuresand his pains.

Like a falling leaf he diesShrivelled, sweet and full of himself,

the leaf dries on the ground,the naked branches pointing to a place

where there's time for everything.


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Not one day in life is an uneventful, nor without profoundmeaning,

It matters not if it is dull and boring as it might seem,It matters not whether you are a shoeshine boy, or living with the

stars,But in every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform alittle kindness even just words of hope when they are needed, the

remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a smilethat good echo is passed on and grows each time its passed, until asimple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and

far away. We All human are so profoundly and intricatelyentwinedthose dead, those living, those generations yet to

comethat the fate of all is the fate of each, our hopes rests inevery heart, in every of hand. Patience is more than endurance.

Providence often aims at a target unseen. Stretches and strains, andevery now and again we cannot stand anymore. But we are

stretched till our purpose is in sight, then the arrow flies. Die notan unlived life, nor live in fear of falling or catching fire.

Loosen your heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise toone beloved to blossom. You can learn to forgive and live as youwere meant to shine. Or look out the window your whole life tothe sight of many sitting their sadness on an elbow wondering if

they made the best with what they got or sorry because theycouldn't be all the things they wanted to be. Hope, I have inherited

her name, but not her place by the window. Dont stop just yet,after every failure we are obliged to strive again and again, and

when faced with the end of one thing, we must build somethingnew and better in the ashes.


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All the struggles of life are incessant, laborious, and painful.

thousands of fondlings, revisings, moldings, addings, removings,graftings, tearings, correctings, smoothings, rebuildings,

reconsiderings, nailings, tackings, chippings, hammerings,hoistings, connectings, and all the poor fumbling uncertain

incompletion of human endeavour. It is unachievable to livewithout coming short at something; unless you live so cautiouslythat you might as well not have lived at all, rendering all dreamsfar and distant. Not even Fairy tales deny the existence of sorrowand failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of relief.It isn't only wickedness and scheming that makes people unhappy,

it was confusion and misunderstanding of the simple truth thatother people are as real as you are. Be quiet and ready enough, andyou shall find compensation in every disappointment, don't listen

to the malice of those friends, who never taking any risksthemselves, can only see other people's failures. The efforts go onforever regardless of however far from perfect, refined, or smooth,

full of terrible memories and fears, yet, in the way of things,somehow noble, complete, and shining in the end. End? No, thereis no end. The journey doesn't end. Another is a path, one that weall must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and allturns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond,

under a swift sunrise.


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Hours, days rush me by, where else they to be?

A prodigal on the endless skyway. Out all nightSleep all day, a bird without a song.I put my arms around every face at the window,

They all have that same face.Entirely things are what they appear to be

And behind them there is nothing,Nothing stands the pace.

A lone boy to the ground cascadesSo tell me where this sinful self did stray.I try to have fun, but he is a fool

Like a flower in the rain, living gets hard to do,With knives hollowed is my lute,

A symphony for lonely tears, It might as well be my fault,All I touch and all I see, is all my life will ever be.

Made of all am used to?Clock on the wall is only right twice a day,God its better than nothing.

I cant help but be scared of it all sometimes,Outside my window the moon doesnt hung as high,

I shall have to sleep when its raining this time,Happiness left my doorway.

Too many corners in my mind, so many shadows in my roomNot even the wind could take me home.

Fountains mingle with the river, the rivers with the Ocean,In one another's being mingle, the winds with the heavens.

Why not I with thee?Well to marvel at nothing is just about the one and only thing,

That can make one happy and keep him that way I suppose.


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I give little when I give of my possessions.To you I want to give truly of mine self

that the earth may delight to feel your bare feetand the winds long to play with your hair.

Ever has it been known?That love knows not its own depth,

Till the hour to separate.I who seek ecstasy in love should not complain of suffering,

For I need not dread thirst when my well is full?When you were a wandering desire in the mist,

I too was there, a wandering desire.Then we sought one another,

And out of our eagerness dreams were bornYou are a dream I never want to wake up from.Opened my eyes to things I'll never really see

Turn down these voices inside my head,lay me down and hold me close

as my faith walks on broken glassand the hangover doesn't pass

well, nothing is ever built to lastTell me no lies.

Let the curtain falls downthe lights do a long slow fade,

Everyone watching,Some scuttle, some wait their turn

I wish I could laugh when I look way backto find who stole all my dreamsburning the same tired flames,

The show goes on.


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What greater thing is there?Than two human souls

joined together to strengtheneach other in all labour,

Minister to each other in all sorrow,to share with each other in all gladness,

to be one with each other in thesilent unspoken memories?

They are one with each other,

how shall they not shareevery waking moment?

If there be spaces in togetherness,the winds of the heavens dance between them.

If in their love of one another They make not a bond of love,

Then its rather be a moving sea

Between the shores of their souls.And if they drink not from one cup

they fill each other's cup,if they eat not from the same loaf,

They give each other bread.And in aloneness, they sing,

Dance and joyous be,

like strings of a luteQuiver with the same music.


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Gandhi said that whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but

it's very important that you do it. Like when someone comes intoyour life and half of you says: "You're nowhere near ready". Andthe other half says: "Make this your forever dream. Should wecontinue to look upwards? Is the light we see in the sky one of

those which will presently be extinguished? The ideal is terrifyingto behold, nevertheless, no more in danger than a star in the jaws

of the clouds. Sadly, sadly, the sun rose; it rose upon no sadder sight than the man of good abilities and good emotions, incapableof his own help and his own happiness, sensible of the blight on

him. Shall I resign myself to let it eat him away? My beloved, whenI shall die, Take me and cut me out in little stars, And let me dwell

in the heavens on its face so fine, and maybe is shall be loved by

night. To love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear like burnt paper crumbles, the

silt of it fills your throat, and grief sits you. Then, you hold life likea plain face between your palms, no charming smile, no violet

eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you; I will love you, again. Our fingerprints don't fade from the lives we touch once sang a song,

whether that true for everybody, or just poetic drivel, know, whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it's very importantthat you do it. Because nobody else will.


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When the fire burns out

and the tears drownIm with you from the startis it where well fall apart

When its not good enoughLooking back Sitting on the tracks

And what you say, isnt coming outIm with you, right here from the start,

Well It really doesnt matter anymoreCan we ever close our lips?

Where we have opened our hearts?Suffering has always been stronger than all other teaching,

And teaches understand what a heart used to be.Bent and broken, into a better shape I hope.

Chain forged in life I wear, link by link, yard by yard;

I girded by free will, and by it wore.Love her, love her, and love her!

If she favours you, love her.If she wounds you, love her.

If she tears your heartLove her, love her, and love her!

Che cosa la familia?

Those whom we share blood?Also for those whom wed give blood too.It either is or is not, thats the way things are.

Shall my dreams end in nothing?Leaving the sleeper where he lay?

Pause you who read this, and think for a moment,Of the long chain of thorn or flower,

That would never have bound you,But for the formation of the first link


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On one memorable day.How soon we forget the chains we wear.

I love her simply because I found her irresistible.

Once for all; I knew to my sorrow,Often and often, if not always,That I loved her against reason,Against promise, against peace,

Against hope, against happiness,Against all discouragement that could be.

Once for all; I loved her none the less.

Where are the graces of my soul?Where are the sentiments of my heart?

What have you done?With the garden that should have bloomed once?

In this great wilderness here?My heart is set, as firmly as ever.

Without a thought, no view, no hope,

And if you oppose me in this great stake,You take my peace and happiness in your hands,

And cast them to the wind.Happiness is a gift to delight in

And the trick is not to expect it they say.Let me walk away at a good pace,

Thinking it easier to go than I had supposed,

I whistle and make nothing of going.If I dropped a tear upon your hand, may it wither it up!If I spoke a gentle word in your hearing, may it deafen you!

If I touched you again, may it be poisonous!A curse upon this roof that gave shelter!

Sorrow and shame upon you!Ruin upon all belonging to you!

What we call destiny is truly character,Can that be altered? One is left to wonder.


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The knowledge that we are censured for our actions,And attitudes need not be discouraging.

But arouse a sensation that we are free to change.

One is not in bondage to the past, which has shaped our feelings.Look again at what happened to you.

I guess my True happiness is to enjoy the present,Without anxious dependence upon the futures carrier.

Not to amuse myself with either hopes or fearsBut to rest satisfied with what I have.

Which is sufficient, for what more could such a person want?

The greatest blessings are within us and within our reach.Be content with your lot, whatever it may be,

Without wishing for what one has not.Life is made of our attitudes I deduce.

And certain things we are obliged to live through.Their reason for this matters not,

And no action can we take to make them pass us by


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Advice, like youth, is probably just wasted on the young. Whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will notunderstand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But

trust me, in years to come, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall ina way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and howfabulous you really looked. You are not as plump as you imagine. Don't

worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective astrying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real

troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worriedmind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. Do onething every day that scares you, but dont be reckless with other people's

hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours either. Don'twaste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you'rebehind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with you. Remember

compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell

me how. Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't. Get plenty of calcium. Be

kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone. Maybe you'llmarry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't.

Maybe you'll divorce at 40; maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too

much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So is

everybody else's. Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraidof it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'llever own. Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room,

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them, do not read beautymagazines. They will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents.You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings.

They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with

you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but with a preciousfew you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and


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lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knewyou when you were young. Live in the north once, but leave before it makesyou hard. Live in the south once, but leave before it makes you soft. Accept

certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You,too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were

young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respectedtheir elders. Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a

trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know wheneither one might run out. Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patientwith those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a

way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over theugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

Adopted (Chicago Tribune: 01/06/97)


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A dream lies dead here, May you softly goBefore this place, and turn away your eyes,

Nor seek to know the look of that which diesWalk not in woe, But, for a little, let your step be slow.

And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise.With words of hope and tender skies.

And this all mourners know, a dream lies deadLike a blind man trying to get to the other side

I have dreamed of joy departed-

But a waking dream of lifehath left many a broken-heart.

Like a drifted petal leaving the tree-Though white of bloom

One little loveliness can be no more;as Beauty bows her imperfect head.

Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!

Try looking at tomorrow not yesterday,And all the things you left behind they say

Oh for one hour of youthful joy!Give back my sunsets!

All Those tender words I did not say,the gentle touch I could not find.

I'd rather laugh, a bright-haired boy,

than reign, a gray-beard king.Off with the spoils of wrinkled age!Away with Learning's crown!

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ODYSSEYS OF MAHINDA VITO