CLOUDS COME floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give color to my sunset sky.
IN MY solitude of heart I feel the sigh of this widowed evening veiled with mist and rain.
YOUR VOICE, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled sound of the sea among these listening pines.
THE LAMP OF meeting burns long; it goes out in a moment at the parting.
A MIND all logic is like a knife all blade.
It makes the hand bleed that uses it.
I CAST MY own shadow upon my path, because I have a lamp that has not been lighted.
SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.
- Tagore -
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