smoke gets in my eyes

(Step 3- We made a decision to turn our lives over to the will and care of God as we understood him.)

THE ANSWER
by Rudyard Kipling


A Rose, in tatters on the garden path,
Cried out to God and murmured 'gainst His Wrath,
Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush
Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush.
And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun,
Had pity, whispering to that luckless one,
"Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well --
What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell?"
And the Rose answered, "In that evil hour
A voice said, `Father, wherefore falls the flower?
For lo, the very gossamers are still.'
And a voice answered, `Son, by Allah's will!'"

Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward,
Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord:
"Sister, before We smote the dark in twain,
Ere yet the stars saw one another plain,
Time, Tide, and Space, We bound unto the task
That thou shouldst fall, and such an one should ask."
Whereat the withered flower, all content,
Died as they die whose days are innocent;
While he who questioned why the flower fell
Caught hold of God and saved his soul from Hell.

smoke gets in my eyes

"Green Finch and Linnet Bird" from Sweeney Todd
by Stephen Sondheim

Green finch and linnet bird,
nightingale, blackbird,
how is it you sing?
How can you jubilate,
sitting in cages,
never taking wing?
Outside, the sky waits,
beckoning, beckoning,
just beyond the bars.
How can you remain,
staring at the rain,
maddened by the bars?
How is it you sing anything?
How is it you sing?

Green finch and linnet bird,
nightingale, blackbird,
how is it you sing?
Whence comes this melody
constantly flowing?
Is it rejoicing
or merely halloing?
Are you discussing, or fussing,
or simply dreaming?
Are you crowing?
Are you screaming?

Ring-dove and robinet,
is it for wages,
singing to be sold?
Have you decided
it's safer in cages,
singing when you're told?
My cage has many rooms,
damask and dark.
Nothing there sings,
not even my lark.
Larks never will, you know
when they're captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive.

Ah, green finch and linnet bird
nightingale, blackbird,
teach me how to sing.
If I cannot fly,
let me sing.

Ann

Wow Smoke, you have access to some great stuff. I love Rudyard Kipling, he is quite deep and makes me think.

Thanks for posting this.

Hugs