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The Swan

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Fractal: JT Eyes with Fractal Explorer, border PSP

The Rede of the Swan.
John P. Gilday

Life is beauteous, Life is kind,
Who sees not beauty, his soul is blind,
Who finds not love, seeks not to find.
      (Thus sang the Swan on the silvered lake,
      To her brood as they played in her rippling wake.)
 
Sweet is the sun, gentle the sky,
Caressing, the zephyrs that murmur by___
Of love the birds sing as they fly.
      (A thing of beauty herself, the Swan
      Sang this song in the flush of dawn.)
 
Our world's a mirror that lovelily
Reflects the things we try to see,
In flower, or bird, or the bending tree.
      (The truth of the song the fledgelings know
      As they peer into the depths below.)
 
But what of the darksome depths below,
Where the sunlit waters never flow,
Are naught of their secrets ours to know?
      (Thus one of the brood aspired to sing
      Swimming afar from the mother wing.)
 
Life is beauteous, kind and sweet,
Why tempt the fates beyond your feet?
Sufficeth the love of each day to greet.
      (So sang the Swan, as she sped to bring
      The wandering one beneath her wing.)

My testament
by titia - stage 4 cancer


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My testament.

When I was born,
my eyes were closed
my hands were empty,
my heart was empty....

I opened my eyes.
I opened my hands.
I opened my heart.

People gave me love, warmth, light.
So did God...and added faith.

Yes, there was pain and sorrow,
There was fear and despair and more,
but these are too heavy to carry along,
so...I dropped them.

now I am traveling light :-)

This is my testament:
My hands, heart and eyes are filled with love, warmth, light and faith.
This riches was given by others.
I want to pass it on.


Titia


I am ready to go, but my loved ones would not let me,
now I use my remaining power to stay with them,
maybe just for some days, but hopefully still for years to come...

The Spider and the Fly
Sterlingware + Paint Shop Pro

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Old time poem
 "Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly;
"'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you may spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high.
Well you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!"
"Oh no, no," said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning spider to the fly: "Dear friend, what can I do
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome - will you please to take a slice?
"Oh no, no," said the little fly; "kind sir, that cannot be:
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings; how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you'd step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,
And, bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the fly;
Then came out to his door again and merrily did sing:
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer grew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes and green and purple hue,
Thinking only of her crested head. Poor, foolish thing! at last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast;
He dragged her up his winding stair, into the dismal den -
Within his little parlor - but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words I pray you ne'er give heed;
Unto an evil counselor close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the spider and the fly.

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