DeeGeesLifeBlog ~ Life as Art ~ Or is it Heart?

Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. ~ Isaiah 40: 28-31

Come, my friends, ‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world / Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows / For my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die / It may be that the gulfs will wash us down / It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles And see the great Achilles, whom we knew / Tho’ much is taken, much abides; / and tho’ We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; / One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. ~ Ulysses, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea / But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound or foam / When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home / Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! / And may there be no sadness of farewell When I embark; / For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. ~ Crossing the Bar, Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light / Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night / Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light / Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night / Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light / And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. ~ Do not go gentle, Dylan Thomas

C S Lewis on The Problem of Pain…

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of; / wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air / Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark nor ever eagle flew / And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. ~ High Flight, John Gillespie Magee Jr

Turn up the volume and give it full screen…