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Such Beauty in This World Abounds.... Writings on this Page: A Mother's Path Memory Grand Mother's Legacy Letter From Heaven Fairies Welcome the Wind What Colour Is...? The Bag Lady

I have read such beautiful writings on the internet that I have found that some words by others must be shared. Click HERE for a complete Site Index

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A Mother's Path

The young mother set her foot on the path of Life. "Is the way long?" she asked.
And her Guide said: "Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before
you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning."

But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything
could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and
gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed with them in the streams,
and the sun shone on them, and life was good, and the young mother cried:
"Nothing will ever be lovelier than this".

Then night came, and storm, and the path was dark, and the children shook with
fear and cold, and the mother drew them close and covered them with her
mantle and the children said: "Oh, Mother, we are not afraid for you are near,
and no harm can come." And the mother said: "This is better than the
brightest of days, for I have taught my children courage."

And the morning came and there was a hill ahead, and the children climbed and
grew weary, and the mother was weary, but at all times she said to the children:
"A little patience and we are there." So the children climbed, and when they
reached the top, they said: "We could not have done it without you, Mother."
And the mother, when she lay down that night, looked up at the stars and said:
"This is a better day than the last, for my children have learned fortitude in the
face of difficulty. Yesterday I gave them courage.
Today I have given them strength."

And the next day came strange clouds which darkened the earth, clouds of war
and hate and evil, and the children groped and stumbled, and the mother said:
"Look up! Lift your eyes to the light." And the children looked and saw above
the clouds an Everlasting Glory, and it guided them beyond the darkness.
And that night the mother said: "This is the best day of all, for I have
shown my children God."

And the days went on, and the months and the years, and the mother grew old,
and she was small and bent. But her children were strong and tall and walked with
courage. And when the way was hard, they helped their mother; and when the way
was rough they lifted her, for she was as light as a feather; and at last they came
to a hill, and beyond the hill they could see a shining road and golden gates flung
wide. And the mother said: "I have reached the end of my journey. And now I
know that the end is better than the beginning, for my children can walk alone,
and their children after them."

And the children said: "You will always walk with us, Mother, even when you
have gone through the gates."

And they stood and watched her as she went on alone, and the gates closed after
her. And they said: "We cannot see her, but she is with us. A mother like ours is
more than a memory. She is a living presence."
--- By Temple Bailey ---

Grand Mother's Legacy

When she died she left me nothing,
Yet,she left me everything,
She revealed her gifts of happiness,
One night to me in a dream.

She taught me to build a garden,
That no-one else can see,
For the garden's deeply hidden,
Within the heart of me.

This garden has many flowers,
Of every size and hue,
It never rains in this secret place,
But,grows lush from inner dew.

Here all things are possible,
For it has no walls nor door.
I can dance among the roses,
Or like an Eagle I can soar.

No-one can steal this place from me,
They don't even know it's there,
And when my life is over,
With another this secret I will share.
Poem by Terrie/Kaavi © 1998

Letter From Heaven

To my dearest family, some things I'd like to say...
but first of all, to let you know, that I arrived okay.
I'm writing this from heaven. Here I dwell with God above.
Here, there's no more tears of sadness; here is just eternal love.

Please do not be unhappy just because I'm out of sight.
Remember that I'm with you every morning, noon and night.
That day I had to leave you when my life on earth was through,
God picked me up and hugged me and He said, "I welcome you."

It's good to have you back again; you were missed while you were gone.
As for your dearest family, they'll be here later on.
I need you here badly; you're part of my plan.
There's so much that we have to do, to help our mortal man."

God gave me a list of things, that he wished for me to do.
And foremost on the list, was to watch and care for you.
And when you lie in bed at night, the day's chores put to flight.
God and I are closest to you....in the middle of the night.

When you think of my life on earth, and all those loving years
because you are only human, they are bound to bring you tears.
But do not be afraid to cry; it does relieve the pain.
Remember there would be no flowers, unless there was some rain.

I wish that I could tell you all that God has planned.
But if I were to tell you, you wouldn't understand.
But one thing is for certain, though my life on earth is o'er.
I'm closer to you now, than I ever was before.

There are many rocky roads ahead of you and many hills to climb;
but together we can do it by taking one day at a time.
It was always my philosophy and I'd like it for you too...
that as you give unto the world, the world will give to you.

If you can help somebody who's in sorrow and pain,
then you can say to God at night......"My day was not in vain."
And now I am contented....that my life has been worthwhile,
knowing as I passed along the way, I made somebody smile.

So if you meet somebody who is sad and feeling low,
just lend a hand to pick him up, as on your way you go.
When you're walking down the street, and you've got me on your mind;
I'm walking in your footsteps only half a step behind.

And when it's time for you to go.... from that body to be free,
remember you're not going.....you're coming here to me
~Author~ Ruth Ann Mahaffey ©Copyright 1998-2001
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FAIRIES There are fairies at the bottom of our garden, that's what my Grandma would say, I believed her then, and I believe now that they live just a dreamworld away. They can only be seen through the innocent eyes of a child, or by those who believe in the whisper of wings in the morning mist, as they flit through the webs spiders weave. Their gossamer wings sparkle like dew on the grass, in the first morning light. As they dance through the flowers, and chase butterflies, they twinkle like stars in the night. They hold all the magic of a child's first dream, all the wonder of a wish that "might be", the enchantment and mystery of imaginary things, that charm and delight those who see. So take care when you go down your garden, listen carefully; you might hear them laugh. But you won't see the fairies if you don't believe, So tread carefully if you stray from the path. © Alan Davis

Photo - Pampas Grass - by Judy Philen O'Connell

WELCOME THE WIND The Wind is the bearer of morning As it gently blows in each new day, With the delicate scent of wild flowers, Or the fragrance of freshly mown hay. The wind is the sweet voice of sunshine, It's the singer of nature's own song, It's the roar of the thunder, the splash of the waves, As it chases the storm clouds along. The wind can be gentle or mighty, The most delicate whisper of all, Is the wind 'neath the wings of an eagle, As it soars o'er the treetops so tall. Then the rush of cold air through the valley, Meets the warm breeze blown up from the shore, And the power of nature exposes itself, In the storm's tempestuous roar. The wind is inspiring and awesome, The symbol of freedom and fear, It destroys as a twister in anger, Yet it soothes as a breeze so sincere. It can race like a stallion running, Fast...free...lonely and wild, It can drift 'tween the sun and the rainbow, Like the delicate touch of a child. It can pass us by so innocently, Yet it sees all and hears everything, But don't fear this wonder of nature, Watch out for, and welcome the Wind. Copyright © Alan Davis

What Colour Is.....? What Colour is the wind, my child, What pastel shade the breeze? Can you hear it gently rustle Through the leaves on yonder trees? What colour is the sun, my child, Can you feel it's silver rise? Can you touch it's gold when setting, Chasing clouds across the skies? What colour is the rain, my child, What tint the morning dew? Can you taste it running down your face On skin so soft and new? What colour is the earth, my child, Can you smell the range of hues? Can you walk through nature's garden And breathe in the one you choose? I hear the breeze, I feel the sun, And smell the morning dew; But these eyes of mine, so cold and closed, Can never look on you. So tell me what the clours are, And I'll help you feel them, too. Will you be my eyes, my child, Will you let me see through you? Copyright © Alan Davis

The Bag Lady

A little old lady, with a sad smiling face,
living her life at her own gentle pace,
she wanders the highways and byways all day,
looking for somewhere for her next night-time stay.
A doorway, a bus stop, or a bench in a park,
just somewhere to rest through the hours of dark.

When her family all left her, she chose this sad life,
but she's somebody's mother, was somebody's wife.
Her husband , god bless him, has long since passed on,
and it's years since she's seen either daughter or son;
so she took to the streets like a little grey mouse,
when the home that she cared for became just a house.

Her hair is bedraggled, her clothes are in rags,
and she carries her life in two carrier bags.
There are threads hanging down from the hem of her skirt,
and the shoes that she wears let in water and dirt.
Her hat and her scarf barely keep out the cold,
such a change from her days wearing diamonds and gold.

In her heyday she wore just the finest of things
and attracted the glances of princes and kings;
But too soon her looks, like her money, had gone,
her husband had died and her children moved on.
Her home was a house now, all empty and cold,
and nobdy cares now she's lonely and old.

So she took to the streets for her new way of life,
a rejected mother, long since widowed wife.
Now she's nothing to worry her weathered grey head,
except where she's going to make her next bed.
So she wanders the streets at her own gentle pace,
a little old lady with a sad smiling face.
© Alan Davis

(:D I do not lay claim to the graphics nor writing on this page.
From time to time I will highlight thought-provoking writings on this page.
If there is ever anything here for which I do not know the author,
and you do, please do not hesitate to let me know, and I will credit them.

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