-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

I do not sleep
(written by Mary Elizabeth Frye)

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that swiftly blow.
I am the diamond glint
on newly fallen snow.
I am the sunlight
on ripened grain.
I am the soft and gentle autumn rain.

When you wake from sleep in the early morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Impasse
by Toon Hermans

De man was moe, hij zag het leven niet meer zitten,
hij zag zichzelf alleen maar zitten op zijn stoel.
Hij had geen kracht meer om z'n tuintje om te spitten
en kreeg een grenzeloos, vereenzaamd, leeg gevoel.

Toen heeft hij heel lang aan zijn kamerraam gezeten,
alsof hij wachtte op een teken, een geluid
van buitenaf dat hem weer nieuwe kracht zou geven,
maar tevergeefs keek hij er elke dag naar uit.

Zo heeft hij héél lang aan dat stille raam gezeten,
de tuin werd groen en toen weer grijs en toen weer groen,
totdat hij godzijdank tenslotte heeft begrepen
dat er geen teken kwam... dat hij het zelf moest doen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chanson de l'adieu
by Edmond Haraucourt

Partir c'est mourir un peu
C'est mourir à ce qu'on aime
On laisse un peu de soi-même
En toute heure et dans tout lieu

C'est toujours le deuil d'un voeux
Le dernier vers d'un poème
Partir c'est mourir un peu
C'est mourir à ce qu'on aime

Et l'on part, et c'est un jeu
Et jusqu'à l'adieu suprême
C'est son âme que l'on sème
Que l'on sème à chaque adieu

Partir, c'est mourir un peu
Partir, c'est mourir un peu
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ballad for Kevin

A citadel was painted on
the canvas of your days-
I'm humbled by its magnitude,
the beauty of your ways.

Life's walls were draped with evergreen
and morning glory vines;
each fluent shape of stone would tell
how love prevents decline.

The threshold, worn by weight of steps,
held footprints large and small-
as every friend in town would know,
you saved a smile for all.

The garden was your living room,
the essence of your pride-
your Harley and your fire pit
were standing side by side.

The canvas folded much too soon,
dear friend, the paint still flows,
depicting paths now leading to
where sun and moon repose.

Our Shepherd offers providence,
Ill see each morning climb,
revealing gifts you've strewn about
in every niche of time.

Some day, the touch of sun on bark,
the peace of rippled skies,
will feel like natures arnica
on gently said goodbyes.

In memory of Kevin McDermott
Chris W March 12 2006

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eternity's Refrain

How short were journey's limericks
when versified in time-
demise became a touch of ink,
a never finished rhyme.

I reminisce about a year
as silence lies entwined
with errant tears that slip between
your lyrics in my mind.

Although we can't claim copyrights
on excerpts of our stride,
life's pathways are perennial-
I've seen your prints and cried.

Acceptance is a twilit poem
for bliss of evening spills
on stanzas charged with undertones
that say I miss you still.

When writings feel like chalk on stone,
too weak to fight the rain,
I pause and read your friendship in
eternity's refrain.

In memory of Kevin McDermott
Chris W March 12 2007